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AP
4-

v./X

COACMXTTEE.

CM/maa-LORD BROUGHAM. F.R.S., Member of the Natioual Institute of France.
Fice-Chairman— EARL SPENCER.

William Allen. Esq., F.R. and R.A.S.

Captain Beaufort. R.N.. F.R. aud H.A.S.

Georjjo Burrows, M.D.

Ix>rd Campbell.

Profi-ssor Carey, A.M.

John Conolly, M.D.

Wiliinm Oulson, Esq.

Ti c Bishop of St. David's.

J. F. I)»vis Esq.. F R.S. -

Sir Henry De l.i Heche, F.R.S.

Professor De Morgan, F.RA.S.

Lord Denmau

S:imncl Duckworth, Esq.

The Bishop of Durham.

John Ellioteon, M.D., F.R.S.

T. F Ellis, Esq., A.M., F.RA.S.

Thomas Falconer, Es i

John Fori**, M.D., F.R.S.

Sir I. L GoliUmid. Bart., F.R. and R A.S.

F. H. Goldsmid, Esq.

Treasurer— JOHN WOOD, Esq.

t., M.P.

Mr. Sergeant Manning.

R. I. Murchison, Esq . F.R.S., P. G.S.

Lord Nugent.

W. S O'Brien. Esq., MP.

John Lewis Prevost, Esq.

Professor Quain.

P. M. Roget, M.D.. See. R.S . F.R.A.3.

R. W. Roihman, Esq., A.M.

Sir Martin Archer Shee, P.K.A., F.R.S.

Sir George T Ktauntou. Bart., M.P.

John Taylor. Esq , F.R.S.

Professor Thomson. M.D., F.L.S.

Thomas Vardon, Esq.

Jacol» Waley, Esq.. A.M.

Jai. Walker, Esq., F.R.S., Pr. Inst. Civ. Eng.

H. Wuymouth, Esq.

Thos. Webster, Esq.. A.M.

Urd Wrottesley, A.M., F.R.A.S.

J. A. Vates, Esq.

LOCAL COMMITTEES.

Alum, Stajfbrdshire—Xiev. 3. P. Jones.
Anglesea — Hev. E. Wil ianis.

Rev. W. Johnson.

- Miller, Esq.
Barnstaple Bancroft, Esq.

William Gribble, E>q.
Belfast— .It*. L. Dminmoud. M.D.
Birminglinm—ViKuX Moon James, Esq.
B- idptrt— 3 ;»mes Williams. Esq.
Bristol J. N. Sanders, Esq.. F.G.S., Chairman.

J Reynold-, Esq., Treasurer.

3 B. E-tlin, Esq . F.L.S., Secretary.
Calcutta — James Younif, Esq.

C. H. Cameron, Esq.
Cambridge— Hev. Leonard Jenvns, A.M., F.L.S.

Rev. John l.odge. A.M.

Rev. Prof. Sedgwick. A.M., F.R.S. & G.S
C mterbury— John Brent, Esq , Alderman. .

Willisim Masters, Esq.
CV/Ww/e- Thomas Barnes, M.D.. F.R S.E.
Carnarvon— R. A. Poole, Esq.

W illiara Hoheits, E*q.
C/irxter— Henry Potts, Esq.
Chichester— C C. Dendy. Esq.
Crfn John Crawfori. Esq.

II i to Petrides, Esq.
Coventry— C. Bray, Esq.
f'rnl,i<;h— Thomas Evans, Esq.
Ih-rbi/ — Joseph Strutt, Esq.

Edward Strutt. Esq, M.P.
iVrtiupi.rt and St'/neh'jusc— John Cole, Esq.

-T i ► 1 1 ii Norman. F.sq.

I.t. Col. C Hamilton Smith, F U.S.
Jhnlrim— The Very Rev. ih« Dean.
l';,„burnh-3. S Traill, M.D.
titrvria— Josiah Wcdgwtxxl, E-q.

Exeter— 3. Tyrrell, Esq.

John Milford, Esq. (Coaver.)
Glamorganshire — W. Williams, Esq.. Aber

pergwm.
Qlasyvip—

Alexander McGrigor, Esq.

James Conner, Esq.

A. J. D. D r Orsey. Esq.
Guernsey— F C. Lukiss, Esq.
Hitcham, Sti/ftM—Rcv. Professor Hensluw.

A.U.. F.L.S. & G.S.
Hull— James Bowden, Esq.
Leeds— 3. Marshall. Esq.
Lcivts-3. W. Woollgar, Esq.

Henry Browne, Esq.
Liverpool lacal Associ torn—

J. Mulleneux, Esq.

Rev. Wm. Shepherd, LL.D.
Maidstone— Clement T. Smyth, E*q.

John Case, Esq.
Manchester Ix>cal Assnciaiinn —

Sir Benjamin Hev wood, Bt.. Treasurer.

Sir George Philips, Bart., M.P.

T. N. Win»tanlev, Esq. Hun. Sec.
Mcrthyr TydwV-Sir J.J. Guest. Bart., M.P.
Minchinhampum — John G. Baul, Esq.
Neath— John Rowland, Esq.
Newcastle— Rev. W. Turner.

T. Sopwith. Esq., F.G.S.
Newport, Isleoffrviht-AX}. Clarke, F.sq.

T.Cooke, Jun., Esq.

R G. Kirkpalrick, Esq.
Newport Pagntll—3. Millar, E*q.
Nvruich — Richard Bacon, Esq.

Wm. Forster, Esq.
Orsett, Ester— Dr. Corbett.

THOMAS COATES, Esq., Secretary, No. 42, Bedford Square.

Oxfird— Ch. Daubeny. M.D., F.R.S., Prof. Cliem.

Rev. Baden Powell, Sav. Prof.

Rev. John Jordan, A.B.
Pesth, Hungary/— Count Szechenvi.
Plymouth— H. Woollcomhe, Esq.*. F.A.S., Chairtn,

Wm. Snow Harris. Esq., F.R.S.

E. Moore, M.D., F.L.S., Secretary.

G. Wightwick.Esq.
Presteign— Rt. Hon. Sir H. Rrydges, Bart.

A. W. Davis. M.D
Riptm—Rpv. H. P. Hamilton, A.M., F.R.S., G.S.

Rev. P Ewart, A.M.
Ruthin— The Rev. the Warden.

Humphreys Jones, Esq.
Jlyde, Isle of /fight— Sir R. D. Simeon, Bt.
Salisbury— Rev. J. Barlitt.
Sheffield— J. H. Abraham, Esq.
ShepUm Mallet— G. F. Burroughs. E«q.
Shrewsbury— U. A. Sl.mey, Es<|.
S*ntth Petherton— Johu Nlchnlette, Esq.
Stvckport— II. Marslaud, Esq., Treasurer.

Henrv Coppock. Esq., Secrctart/.
Sr/dney, New S. fVales—Vf. M. Maiming, Esq.
Swansea — Matthew Moggridge, Esq
Tavistock— Rrv. W. Evans.

John Rundle, Esq., M.P.
Truro— Henry Sewell Stokes, Esq.
Tttnbridge /Cells— Dr. Yeats.
htutxeter— Ro!*»rt Blurion, Efq.
Virginia, V. *\— Professor Tucker.
Worcester— Chns. Hastings, M D.

C. H. Hebb, Esq.
JVrexham— Thomas Edgworth, Esq.

Major Sir William Llovd.
Yarmouth— C. E. Rumbold*. Esq.

Dawson Turner, Esq.
York— Rev. 3. Kenrick, A.M.

John Phillips Esq , F.R.S., F.G.S.

London : Piin'ed by Wim.iam Clowes and Soys. Stamford Stn-et.

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INDEX TO VOL. XII.

America, discovery of, in the 10th cen-
tury. 342
American birds, singular call* of, 408
Amoy, account of, 137

Animals. locomution of, 190, 252, 325.
454

Antelope shooting, 256

Ants, natural history of, 481, 490

Arein, the, 16

Artisans and apprentice* on the con-
tinent. 62

Asbamnus, fountain of, ICO
Ash-tree, applications of the, 470

Astrology, judicial, exposure of, 366.
391,430,466

Atlantic and Pacific oceans, junction
of the, 397. 404. 414

Australia, food of natives of, 96 ; flow-
ers and fruits of. 235 ; use of oxen
in. 472

Baste low a. the Exchange of. 172

Basilisk, notice of the, 4-40

Bats, natural history of, 4

Beech tree, useful applications of the,
158. 1/3

Birch-tree, economical uses of the, 91,
109

Birds, maternal affection in, 416

Black and brown, planU used for dye-
ing. <1

Bricks aud brickmaking, 262

Bridges, floating and flying, 111. 122

British shipping, privileges and liabili-
ties of, 6

Cadoul, account of the city of, 441

Cadiz at sunset, JU0

Cairo, business in, 383]

Camel, the, 216

Caricatures, uses of, 416

Catalonia, peasants of, 294

Cattle-drovers, English, 65 S

Cedar of Lebanon, 93

Charybdis, whirlpool of, 408 ,

Chestnut-tree, uses of the, 483

Chinese eatables, 28; tools and me-
chanics, 152 ; public gardens, 376

Cities, importance of, 8

Coaches in Yucatan, 32

Coals, substitutes for, 278

Cold, effects of, upon the body . 2-T8

Combat, trial by, 154

Comets, substance of, 152

Condor, viae of the, 428

Conversation, 68

Coppermine, shooting the rapids on the,

Cornwall and Derbyshire, raining laws

of, 4H7
Coverley, Sir Roger de, 1, "7, 105, 153,

209, 297, 369, 393, 425. 440. 465,

489
Crab-catching on Scottish coast, 408
Curiosities of British natural history,

4, 49. 97, 169. 1*3, 213, 249. 806.

337,401,433.481
Dance hs. the, 310

Day. perpetual, in the arctic circle, 100
Dean Forest, the free miners pf, 318
Diligence, a SpanUh, 44
Dioramas, port"'' 1 • ?
DissoV'iug Views. 3
IV g, attachment of the. 304
dragons, notion* impacting, 432
Drovers. Highland, 356
Uuddun, dekeription of the scenery of

the, 236, 26d, 316
Dudley, its castle and cavern, 83; Nail

ers of, 84
Dutch settlers at the Cape, 64

EDTKBtraoff.a first glance at, 417

Elisha, fountain of, 200

Emigration, 276

England in the time of the Saxons,
140 ; general industry of, 272 ; state
of crime in, 302

Essays on the lives of remarkable
painters— Giovanni Cimabue, 25 ; Ci
mabue, concluded, 59 ; Giotto, 89 ;
Giotto, concluded, 103; Giotto and
his scholars, 121 ; Giotto and his scho-
lars, continued, 131 ; Giotto and his
scholars — the Campo Santo, 146;
Giotto and his scholars, continued t
155; Gates of San Giovanni. 185; the
Gates of San Giovanni, concluded,
197 ; Masaccio, 217 ; Masaecio, con-
cluded, 225 ; Pilippo Lippi and An-
felicoda Fiesole, 273; Angellco da
lesole, 281; Benozzo Goxxoli,301;
Andrea Castaguo aud Lucca Signo-
relli,308; Domenico dal Ghirlandajo,
364; Andrea Bfantegna, 409; A
Mantegn.i, contiuued, 436 ; the Bel-
lini. 477

Etruscan antiquities. 20. 48

Factories, dayg at, describing various
manufactures and arts : — needle-
mills, 33 ; porcelain-works. 73; lace,
113 ; silk, 161 ; potteries, 201 ; cotton,
241; print-work, 289; carpets, 329;
steam-boat, 377; alum-works, 421
woollen, 457 ; flax, 501

Falkland, palace of, 361

Fallows, fallacy respecting, 420

Fine arts, influence of the, 396

Fish-hooks, manufacture of, 175

Floating islands and gardens, 326

Foo-choo-foo. account of, 108

Food best adapted for man, 24

Fossil trees, 8

Fox, natural history of the, 169, 183

Fruit, ripeuing of, 32

Gano-systkm of agricultural labour,
309

Geography and history, 88

Geologv, museum of economic, 319

Giizard* pebbles, use of, 442

Glaciers, living on the Alpine, 450

Oloves and glovers, 94, 101

Good manners, 355 •

Granite and sand-hills, sonorous, 135

Guadaloupe, account of, 321

Haydn's childhood. 210

Hedgehog, natural liistory of the, 213

Hindustanee parable, 124

Humble-bee, natural history of the,
401

Hungary, sand plains of, 352

Husbandry affairs, iu 1449. 200

Iokoraxce the great obstacle to social
improvement, 240

Improvements, public, in 1843, 497

India, tribes and caste* of : Chandalaa,
9; Brahmen, 41 ; the FJuwls, 100; the
*nn«U".u*. 14H; tho Mahruttas. 18V;
the Coolies, 257; the Seiks, 313; the
Cutchees, 363; Rajpoots. 34); the
Rohilla*. 429; system of Dawk tra-
velling in, 156; commerce with, 355;
overland route to, 456

Indian appetite, 347

Indigo planters and plantations, 178

Ireland in the 16th centfiry, 328; edu-
cation in. 340

Irish climate, its use.*, 152

Iron, new uses of, Ub6

Italian vintage, 29

Jamaica, fire flies of, 472

Kangaroo hunting In Australia, 160

Kingfisher, or halcyon, nest of, 267

Kuzxauk dinner, 312

Lakes. 282

Langdale. Westmoreland, scenery of,
348. 372

Larch, economical uses of the, 226

La Rioja. the mines of, 1&6

Learning, power of, 24

Lime-tree, useful applications of the,
386

Lizard, natural liistory of, 305

Lloyd's List, 15

Locust swarms of Asia, 230

Lord Mayor's show. 444, 452

Lucifer matches, 300

Madkio as a city, 376 ; account of, 389

Maple, economical uses of the, 133

Marble-pictures and artificial marble,
419

Maremma of Italy & Pontine marshes,
3.4

Marshes, 338

Mexico described by Cortes, 440

Mimulus, the, 171

Mining under the sea. 61 ; labour, eco-
nomy of, 426

Moles, usefulness of, 8 ; natural history
of, 49

Montpellier, 235

Monts de Piete, or pawn societies, 210,
218

Music in the north of England, 347

Mygale, errors respecting the, 432

Nature, beautiful provision of, 256;
in man, 355

Nelson at Trafalgar, 140

Newfoundland, transparency of the sea
on the coast of, 104

New Zealand, whaling oflT, 96

Niagara district, Canada, J 7. 52, 85

North American Indiau villages, cha-
racter of, 376

Nottingham, the hill and castle at, 191

Oak, economical uses of the, 274, 276,
302

Orkney, kelp manufacture in, 184

Ostrich, incubation of the, 428

Parks for the people, 138

Parmesan cheese, 408

Pekin, 11

Persia, the mechanical arts in, 390

Petersburg by moonlight, 3b8

Phoenix, notions respecting the, 428 !

Pit's and pig drovers, 277 '

Pine and fir, foiling aud transport nf,
18; economical uses of the, 2/ ;

*• resinous products of, 42

Psucard- printing at Vienna, 3!7

Polar sea. storm in the, 388

Port- Phillip, water-holes of, -176

Potato, products of the, 370
Prairie trailing caravan, 220

Prison discipline, 35

Progresses of Queen Elizabeth, 12,
4.>, 106, 143. 147, 181, 193, 233, 258,
298, ;<58, 406. 446, 473
Prospect , an arctic, 355

Pyramid, size and cost of the great,

240
Rains, preternatural, 127
Rambles from Railway): Penshnrst,
228, 260, 285; Penshuist to Tun-
bridge, 321
Rats, sagacity of, 396
Heading and Study, 72
Refreshments, Puldic, dining in Lon-
don, 55

Rlchborough and Peculver, 4S5, 492

Roast-beef, Freueh opiuiou ol, 264

Rocks, blasting of, 6C

Roman Peasantry, 412

Rome in the 6th century/3<0

Rotten-stone and emery, 2i0^v

Russia, Southern, horse-farms itfc WI"
Sheep-flocks of, 215

Salamander, notice of the, 443

Salmon, account of a tame, 363

Serpent-charmer, 408

Shang-hae, account of, 81

Sheep in Mecklenburg, 68 ; marks
for, 160 ; drovers, 17 1

Shetland Islands, corn-mill of the, 160

Shikarpur. 312

Shipping, insurance of, 15

Shrews, natural histoiy of British, 249

Siberia, autumnal travelling in, 8

Sicily, sulphur-mines of, 47

Sidon, the Great. 30

Sindh, travelling in, 304

Singapore Harbour, 2,6

Skelligs Islands, 341

Snakes, British, natural history of, 337,
350

Soda and soap, 416

Solfaterra and Solfatara of Italy, 302

South, the climate of the, 220

South America, wool- bearing animals
of, 495

Staffordshire, South, at night, 53

State, decadence of a, 72

Stockings and Stocking-makers, 222

Stone*, for buildinir, 254
I Straw, various uses of, 394
(Sugar-cane in Spain, 479
Surf and Pore of Iudia, 86
Swallows, opinions concerning, 443
Switzerland, cooperative labour in,
124; outdoor labour of females iu.
180
Tahiti, account of, 265
Tapestry, 195

Tea-drinking on the Neva, 152
Temple Church, the, 125, 129, 141
Toronto, wood-paving at, 232
Tortola, lireakfasts at, 240
Trinity House, account of, 22
Trout, vuriety of the, 315
True breeding, 2«0
Tyrol, account of the, 469, 475
Vegetable food, improved, 272
Vegetable ivory, 443
Velino, cataract of the, 232
Vendemmia, 29

Vesuvius, eruptions of Mount, 193
Vienna, trades at, 376
Vineyard cultivation, 128
Wai.halla, the, 10
Walnut-tree, uses of the, 43^
We rows, in Guiana, village of, 72
Wasps, natural history of, 433
Water-newts, uatural history of, 07'
Water, hot, Inning for. 3J2
Weather, iu London and Dublin. K<»
Western Australia, vegetation of. it 2
Whale oil, increasing consumption of*.

Whitebait, 304
Wines, use of brand v in, <M3
Wire-ropes, 323

Wolves in Spain, 32 ; European, 232
Yano-Tse-Ktano River, C4
Yew trees, account of, 69
Youth and Age, 403
Yucatan, ruined cities and rapid \ ■*,;. '. ;•
tion of, 184

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

SUBJECT. paob. PF.8IONERS.

1 Sir Roger de Coverley and the ' Spec-

tatoP 1 Harvey.

2 Group of Bets ....*. . 4 Sly.

3 Cliandalas 9 Standfast.

4 Hatfield House 12 Auclav.

6 Qneenstown, Cnnada .... 17 Simcoe.

6 Etruscau Vase 20 Pairholt.

7 Ditto 21

8 Cimabue, and copy of one of hi* Pic-

tures . . 25 Harvey.

9 Italiau Peasant* with Fruit ... 29 Pinelli.

10 Needle-pointer at work .... 33 Sly.

11 Rubber straightening wires ... 35

12 Stamper moulding the eyes . . 37 „

13 Pieicmg moulded eyes .... 38 ,,

14 Stages of needle-making ... 38 ,,

15 Comb of Needles 38 .,

KNORAVERS.

Jackson.

Murdon.

Qu.irtley.

Green.

Sears.

Sly.

II Clarke.

M.Hampton.

Sears.

Hollo way.

•J6

Crowe.

Wrngg.

SUBJECT.
Soft-straightener ......

' StageB of the Needle-eye. . . .

A Brahmen expounding the Veda .
Nonsuch-House, Surrey ....

Etruscan Vase . . . . . .

Moles (Tnlpn Europmn) • . .
Fort Chippewa on the Welland .
I Sir Roger de Coverley and the ' Spec-
tator' in the Picturo Gallery .
i Madonua and infant Christ, troni

Cimabue

> English Cattle Drover . . • .

1 Yew-Tree at Fountains Abbev . .

Porcelain- Work*,.— Potter's Wheel,

fee

i Grinding the Flint, Clay, &c. . .
Moulds for Porcelain, and C:»sts .

PAOI

nrsioNias.

EKOKAVFfc

Slv.

Murdon.

„

Sc ; ,r«.

Solwn.

Ihdlow.iv.

Povuter.

Jackson.

D.ckes.

Slv.

•i9

Standout.

Stars.

Simcoe.

Hirvey.

Jackson.

II. Cl.irke.

R. Davis.

M.Iliimpt ni.

(.9

Jukes.

Sears.

Doe.

Pal I in 4.

1.3 1 300

ILLUSTRATIONS.

SUBJECT. PAOK. DKMONZRt.

30 Fixing Hand let 77 Doc.

31 Putting articles into 'Seggars' . 78 „

32 Placing * Seggars' in Biscuit-kiln . 78 Wells.

33 Tcs^iUted Tiles 83 Doc.

J4_irfking the Tiles 80 ,,

35 Port of Shang-hae 81 Graham.

36 Fort Erie, on Lake Kric. in 1770 . 85 Mrs. Simcoe.

37 Head of Giotto, with two Angels 83 Harvey.

34 Cedar at Hampstead 93 Jukes.

39 Group of Water-Newts .... 97 Sly.

4*1 Bheels 100

41 Portrait of Dante, aOcr Giotto . . 104 Harvey.

42 Sir R, dc Coverley leaviug Church li>5 "

43 Poo choofoo 10J Graham.

44 I.aee-liunnersatWork . . . . 113 Sly.

45 String twisted as in Bobbin net . 115 „

46 Winding- Engine 116 ,,

47 Parts of the Bobbin-net Machine .117 „

48 Juccpiard Apparstus . . . . 118 ,,
i9 View in a Lace dressing Room . . 120 „

50 Specimen of Machiue Lace . . . 120 ,,

51 Specimen of Run Lace .... 120 ,,

52 John Preaching in the Wilderness.—

From a Picture by Giotto . . 121 Harvey.

53 The Exterior of the Tern pic Church 125 Anelay.

54 The Temple Church, from Doorway 129 „

55 Female Figure, from Giotto . . 133 Harvey.

56 Amoy in China 137 Graham.

57 Eastern Extremity of the Temple

Church, with Altar, &c. . . . 141 Auelay.

58 Portraits of Taddeo Gaddi and An-

drea Orcagna, with a View of the

Campo Santo . . ... 145 Harvey.

59 The Ameers of Sciude . . . . 14S Standfast.

60 Sir R. de Coverley attending Assizes 153 Han ey.
HI The Angel and Youth, from Orcagna 136 ,.

62 Silk-Doublcrsat Work . . . . 101 B. Sly.

63 Hanks of Silk 1G4

64 Silk Winding Machine .... 165

65 Silk-Sninning Machine .... KG ,,

66 Silk-Throwing Machine .... 167 .,

67 Silk Throwing or Spinning by Haud 167 ,,

68 Machine for Cutting Lace-Tag* . 163 „

69 Machine for Fixing Lace-Ta^s. . 168 „ '

70 The Fox " . 169 Perring.

7 1 The Casa Lonja of Barcelona . • 172 Shepherd.

72 The English Sheep-Drover ... 177 R. Davis.

73 Queen Elizabeth and her Court . 181 Fairholt.

74 Annunciation, & Portrait of Ghtberti 185 Harvey.
'. 5 The Mahrattas 188 Jam*.

76 Diagrams of Bones ' 190 Jackson.

77 Muscles of the Fore-arm ... 191 .,

78 Vesuvius from a Drawing taken dur-

ing the last Eruption .... 193 Tiffin.

79 Group of Angels ...... 197 Harvcv.

80 Mill-Room for Pottery .... 201 Well*.*

81 Flint-Crushing 205 ,,

82 Flint-Grinding 205 „

83 Pottery-Turning 206 „

84 Plate-Making 207

85 Printing Blue-Ware 208 „

86 Transferring the Print .... 208

87 Sir Roger de Coverley hunting . • 209 Harvey.

HS Hedgehogs 213 Auelay.

8J Head of Masaccici and Figure of St.

Panl 217 Harvcv.

90 Pointea-Pitro 220 C. Graham.

i)l St. Peter and St. Paul restoring the

dead Youth to Life 225 Harvey.

9-2 Penshurst Church 228 Tiffiu.

93 Orcliis Mascula . ' 228

91 Cottage near Penshurst .... 229 ,,

95 Sidney's Tree 229 „

06 Bristol in the 1 7lh Century . . . 233 SI v.

97 The Source of the Duddon ... 236 Thorne.

«>d Coeklev Brig 237

*».) Power- Looms— Cotton Manufacture 241 B. Sly.

1"0 Can-roviug Frame 246 „

101 Canting Engine 248 „

102 British Shrews 249 B. Sl>.

103 Centre of Gravity of the Body . . 25J Fussell.

104 A'.igle of Feet in standing ... 253 „

105 Centre of Gravity with burden on

the back 253 „

106 Ditto with burden in front ... 254 „

107 Ditto of a corpulent Man . . . 25t ,.

108 Coolies 257 Gilbert.

109 Penshurst— General View . . . Ji6') Tiffin.

110 Earl of Leicester's Bell at ditto . 262

111 Tahiti— From an original Sketch . 265 Graham.

112 The Duddon— The Stepping- Stoues 262 Thome.

1 13 Ditto— Seathwaite Chapel ... 269 „

1 14 Portrait of Lippi, and Departure of

voung St. John tor the D.sert . 273 Hnrvcv.

115 Irish Pig- Drover 2/7 11. Davis.

J 16 Portrait of Fiesole, and Coronation

of the Virgin 281 Harvey.

117 Penshurst Castle 2S5 Tiffin.

118 Dye and Print- Works .— Washing 289 Surgeaut.

J 19 Singeing 290 Wells.

120 Ketr, or Boiler 290 „

E«*aa.iv Kas.
Crowe.
Wraag.
Kirchncr,
Holloway.
Palling.
Whimper.
Sly.

II. Clarke.
Sly.
Sears.
Nugent.
H. Clarke.
Jnckson.
Whimper.
Welch.
Wrnxg.
Kirchucr.
Sladcr.

Welch.
Cro*e.

NugcuU

II. Clarke.
Jackson.

H. Clarke.
Whimper.

Jackson.

H. Clarke.

Nugeut.

Jackson.

H. Clarke.

Welch.

Harding.

Wragg.

Nugent.

Crowe,

Wn.gg.

Holloway.

Scars,

Sears.

Holloway.

M. Hampton.

Slader.

II. Clarke.

Jewitt.

Jackson.

II. Clarke.

Jewitt.

Wragg.

Ma torn.

Wragg.

Crowe.

Welch.

Tuulmin.

Jnckson.

Holloway.

II. Clarke.
Whimper.

H. Clarke.
Jackson.

Sly.
Jackson.

Scars.

Nujjeut.

Holloway.

Jnckson.

Nugent.
Jackson.

Whimper.
Jacksou.

II. Clsrke.
M. Hampton.

II. Clarke.

Jacksou.

Nugent.

llomucy.

Palling.

SUBJECT. rzor. »esu»nkbs.

Measuring 294 Perring.

Block-Printing by Hand ... 294 Shepherd.

Block -Printing by Machine . . . 294 Perriug.

Cylinder Printing- Machiue . . . 296 B Sly.

Sir II. de Coverley and the Portrait 297 Harvey.
Portrait of Benozzo Gozzoli, and

Dancing Figures 301 „

Group of Lizards 0O0 B. Sly.

Ministering Angel, by L. Signorclli 309 Harvey.

Seiks 313 Standfast.'.

On the Duddon at Seathwaite . .315 Thorue. .

Duddon Sands 16 ,.

Tunbridge Castle 321 Tiffin.

Centre of Gravity in the Human

Figure, en-ct 325 FussclL

Ditto in a Horizontal Position . 325 „

Ditto of a Horse's Head .... 325 „

Ditto of Mau in Walking . . . 326 „ *

Ditto of the Rhinoceros .... 326

Brussels-Carpet Loom .... 329 B. Sly.

Combiug-wheel 331 Wells.

Scotch-Carpet Loom 333 Perring.

Clipping- machine ..... 3o4 Wells.

Carpet Pattern 334 „

Persian-Rug Loom 334 Shepherd.

British Snakes 337 Wells.

TheSkelli^ 341 Anelay.

The Model Prison, Pentonville . 345

Blea Tarn, Langdale .... 348 Thorue.

The Solitary Farm house, Langdale 349 „

Adder-stones 352 B. Sly.

Chieftains of Cutch 353 Shepherd.

The Highland Drover .... 35 > R.Davis.

Falkland Palace, Fifeshirc ... 361 Harvey.
The Virgin and Attendants, from

Ghirlandajo 364

Geuevra da Benci, from ditto . . 365 Harvey.

Diagram of the Astrological Houses 367 Jackson.

Sir R. de Coverley and the Gipsies 369 Harvey.

Peasantry or Laugilale .... 3/2 Thorne.

Dungeon Ghyll ...... 373 „

Boiler-Making . . • . . { . . 377 Welh.

Cutting and Punching Machine . 3$ I „

Boring- Machine • 383 „

Pltining-Machino 3*?4 ,,

Rajpoots 335 Shepherd.

Madrid from the Manzanares • . »S9 Brown.

Sir R. de Coverley and the Beggar 393 Harvey.

Panama. — From an original Sketch 397 Graham.

NestoftheHumblo-Bee . . . .401 Shepherd.

Puerto Hello ....... 404 Graham.

Portrait of A. Mantegna and Group 409 Harvey.

Roman Peasants.— From Pinelli . 412 Poiter.

Edinburgh 417 Harvey.;

Harlot Alum-Mine 421 Wells.

Stceping-Pits 424 „

Evaporating Boiler • • . • • 424 ,,

Crystallizing Coolers 424 „

Sir Roger de Coverley In Westmin-
ster Abbey . 425 Harvcv.

ThcRohillos 429 Standfast.

Astrological Horoscope .... 430 Fussell.

Nest* of Hornets and Wasps . . 433 Wells.

St. Christopher 436 Jackson.

Pax of Maso Finigncrr? ♦ . . 437 Harvey.

Afghans 441 Standfast.

I,ord Mavor's Show-froni Hogarth 444 Fairholt.

Wild Men 4J5 „

Whiffler and Hench-Boy .... 445

Sir Roger de Coverley at the Play • 449 Harvey.

The Triumph of Neptune ... 452 Fairholt.

Positions of the Human Leg. • . 454 Fussell.

Action of the Human Leg . • . 455 „

Coloured-Cloth Hall, Leeds . . 457 Wells.

Fulliog-stocks 462 Jewitt.

Hand-raising . • • . • . . 462 Shepherd.

Cutting ami tlxing the Teazles . . 463 Wells.

SirR.de Coverley and the Waterman 465 Harvey.

Hall in the Tyrol 463 Tiffin.

Hareficld, Middlesex .... 473 Harvey.
Giovanni Bellini, and two groups

from his paintings at Venice • . 477 .#

Gentile Bellini 478

Ants and their Nest 481 B. Sly.

North Wall of Rich borough . ^. .486 Shepherd.

Plan of Richborough 486 B. Sly.

Death of Sir Roger de Coverley

communicated to the Club . . 489 Harvey.

Rninsof the Church of Reculver • 493 Shepherd.

Bronze found at Reculver ... 493 B. Sly.

Lincoln's Iun Buildings .... 497 ,,
London Terminus of the Dover,

Brighton, and Croydon Railway 496 Anelay.

Cheltenham Proprietary College . 499 B. Sly.

Glasgow Corn Exchange .... 500 „

Interior of Marshall's Flax-Mill . 501 L. Jewitt.

Flax-heckling 505 „

Drawing out the heckled Flax • 606 „

Doubling the Drawings .... 506 „

Tow-carding ....... 507 ••

Wrejjg.

Holloway.

Kirchner.

Sears.

Jackson.

II. Clarke.
Nugeut.
H. Clarke.
Sears.
Jackson.

Holloway.

Williams.

Horner.

Wragg.

Nugeut.

Welch.

Sears.

Jackson.

Wragg.
Holloway.
M.Hampton
Jacksou.

II. Clarke.

Jacksou.

M. Hampton.

Jackson.

Sears.

Holloway.

Welch.

Nugent.

Wragg.

Jock »on.

Whimper.

NnK*"* 11 '

Whimper.

II. Clarke.

Hampton.

Dalziel.

Holloway.

Nugent.

Wra«g.

Sears.

Jackson.

Nugent.

Jsckson.

Holloway.

Jackson.

Clarke.

Sears.

Jackson.

Sears.

Nngent.

Weich.

Horner.

Jackson.

W. T« Green.

H. Clarke.

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Wragg-

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Jackson.
Nugent.
Crowe.
Horner.

Scar*.

Wrastf.

"Welch.

Nugent.

Horuer.

Holloway.

Romney.

Sears.

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE

OF THIS

Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge*

[Sir Roger do Coverley and the ' Spectator.']

SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY.— No. I.

It is pleasant to reflect upon the imperishable quality
of many of those things, apparently trifling, which have
the power of contributing to innocent enjoyment.
The sports of childhood are essentially ancient. The
top and the hoop have outlived many generations.
'pi,™ :- « r__^.._ _:_i..„ i_ Lionardo da Vinci, in

be pretty toy in which a
fastened by tapes — at once
dissevered and united ; and the toy is still sold for a
halfpenny at the corner of every street. To ascend in
the scale of enjoyment the melody which was delight-
ful in the days of Queen Elizabeth is forgotten, per-
haps, for two hundred years, and it suddenly springs
into popularity in the days of Queen Victoria. For a
quarter of a century country-dances were out of fashion.
They are reviving; and with them comes back one of
the oldest and most beautiful, with its courteous ad-
vances, from the extremities of a long line, of the lady
and the gentleman, — their turnings in the oentre, —
their returnings, — the chain figure in which the lady
winds through a line of gentlemen, and the gentleman

no 691.

through a line of ladies— and lastly, the arched hands
under which every couple passes. This is Roger de
Coverley, or Roger of Cowley. Cowley is a pretty vil-
lage about two miles from Oxford; and here some one
lived in the days of the Tudors who was famous enough
to have his name linked with the pretty dance-tune
that has once again become fashionable. But he had
a higher honour. The popularity of the dance in the
days of Queen Anne gave a name to the most famous
character in * The Spectator ;' and ever afterwards the
dance itself gathered an accession of dignity even in
its name; and plain Roger of Cowley became Sir
Roger de Coverley.

The revival of the dance is propitious to our attempt
to revive, for the general reader, those delightful
papers of Addison and Steele which are devoted to the
fictitious character of Sir Roger. Few people now
read * The Spectator ' as a whole. Sume of the more
celebrated essays, such as * The Vision of Mirza,' find
their place in books of extract. The delicate humour
of the delineation of Sir Roger de Coverley is always
referred to as the highest effort of Addison's peculiar
genius; but not many will take the pains to select

Vol XII.— B
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THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[January 7,

those sixteen or seventeen papers from the six hundred
and thirty which form the entire work. These papers
have a completeness about them which show how
thoroughly they were written upon a settled plan.
Steele appears to have first conceived the character in
the second number of * The Spectator ;' but Addison
very soon took it out of his friend's hands, who was
scarcely able to carry on the portraiture with that re-
finement which belonged to Addison's conception of
the character. Addison, it is said, killed Sir Roger in
the fear that another hand would spoil him.

As a representation of manners a century and a half
ago, the picture of Sir Roger de Coverley has a re-
markable value. The good knight is thoroughly Eng-
lish ; and in him we see a beautiful specimen of the old-
fashioned gentleman, with a high soul of honour, real be-
nevolence, acute sense, mixed up with the eccentricities
which belong to a nation of humourists. The readers
of ' The Spectator ' are fast diminishing. No one now
gives " his days and nights to the volumes of Addison ;"
but his gentle graceful humour has never been ex-
celled, and nowhere is it more conspicuous than in
the papers of which Sir Roger de Coverley is the hero.

Trie plan of * The Spectator ' is founded upon the
fiction of a club that assembles every Tuesday and
Thursday to carry on the publication. Sir Roger does not
appear highly qualified for a literary colleague — a col-
laborateur* as the French style it, — but he nevertheless
is the foremost in * The Spectator's ' " account of those
gentlemen who are concerned with me in the work."

44 The first of our society is a gentleman of Worces-
tershire, of an ancient descent, a baronet, his name Sir
Roger de Coverley. His great-grandfather was in-
ventor of that famous country-dance which is called
after him. All who know that shire are very well
acquainted with the parts and merits of Sir Roger.
He is a gentleman that is very singular in his behaviour,
but his singularities proceed from his good sense, and
are contradictions to the manners of the world, only as
he thinks the world is in the wrong. However, this
humour creates him no enemies, for he does nothing
with sourness or obstinacy, and his being unconfined
to modes and forms makes him but the readier and
more capable to please and oblige all who know him.
When he is in town he lives in Soho Square. It is said
he keeps himself a bachelor by reason he was crossed
in love by a perverse beautiful widow of the next
county to him. Before this disappointment, Sir Roger
was what you call a fine gentleman, had often supped
with my Lord Rochester and Sir George Etherege,
fought a duel upon his first coming to town, and
kicked bully Dawson in a public coffee-house for
calling him youngster : but being ill used by the above-
mentioned widow, he was very serious for a year and
a half; and though, his temper being naturally jovial,
he at last got over it, he grew careless of himself, and
never dressed afterward. He continues to wear a coat
and doublet of the same cut that were in fashion at
the time of his repulse, which, in his merry humours,
he tells us has been in and out twelve times since he
first wore it. He is now in his fifty-sixth year, cheer-
ful, gay, and hearty ; keeps a good house both in town
and country ; a great lover of mankind ; but there is
such a mirthful cast in his behaviour, that he is rather
beloved than esteemed.

" His tenants grow rich, his servants look satisfied,
all the young women profess love to him, and the young
men arc glud of his company. When he comes into
a house he calls the servants by their names, and talks
all the way up stairs to a visit. I must not omit that
Sir Roger is a justice of the quorum, that he fills the
chair at a quarter-session with great abilities, and three
months ago gained universal applause by explaining
a passage in the Game Act."

We hear little of Sir Roger, except an occasional
opinion, till we reach the 106th number, when Addison
takes up the man of whom he said " we are born for
each otter."

" Having often received an invitation from my
friend Sir Roger de Coverley, to pass away a month
with him in the country, I last week accompanied him
thither, and am settled with him for some time at his
country-house, where I intend to form several of my
ensuing speculations. Sir Roger, who is very well
acauainted with my humour, lets me rise and go to
bed when I please, dine at his own table or in my
chamber, as I think fit, sit still and say nothing with-
out bidding me be merry. When the gentlemen of
the country come to see him, he shows me at a distance.
As I have been walking in his fields I have observed
them stealing a sight of me over a hedge, and have
heard the knight desiring them not to let me see them,
for that I hated to be stared at.

" I am the more at ease in Sir Roger's family, because
it consists of sober, staid persons ; for as the knight is
the best master in the world, he seldom changes nis
servants; and as he is beloved by all about him, his
servants never care for leaving him : by this means
his domestics are all in years, and grown old with their
master. You would take his valet-de-chambre for his
brother ; his butler is grey-headed, his groom is one of
the gravest men that I have ever seen, and his coach-
man has the looks of a privy-councillor. You see the
goodness of the master even in his old house-dog, and
in a grey pad that is kept in the stable with great care
and tenderness, out of regard to his past services,
though he has been useless for several years.

'• I could not but observe with a great deal of plea-
sure the joy that appeared in the countenances Gf these
ancient domestics upon my friend's arrival at his
country-seat. Some of them could not refrain from
tears at the sight of their old master ; every one of
them pressed forward to do something for him, and
seemed discouraged if they were not employed. At
the same time the good old knight, with a mixture of
the father and the master of the family, tempered the
inquiries after his own affairs with several kind ques-
tions relating to themselves. This humanity and
goodnature engages everybody to him, so that when
he is pleasant upon any of them, all his family are in
good numour, and none so much as the person whom
he diverts himself with : on the contrary, if he coughs,
or betrays any infirmity of old age, it is easy for a
stander-by to observe a secret concern in the looks of
all his servants.

" My worthy friend has put me under the particular
care of his butler, who is a very prudent man, and, as
well as the rest of his fellow-servants, wonderfully de-
sirous of pleasing me, because they have often heard
their master talk of me as of his particular friend."

Such is the general outline of the character and
position of Sir Roger de Coverley. In succeeding
numbers we shall present his minuter features.

PORTABLE DIORAMA.— DISSOLVING VIEWS.

In a former number we gave an outline of the prin-
ciples on which chiefly depend the effects produced at
the Colosseum, the Cosmorama, the Panorama, the
Diorama, and other similar exhibitions. Since then
we have met with a suggestion by a Mr. Tait of
Edinburgh, for the construction of a portable Diorama,
which seems worthy of a few further observations.

Mr. Tait communicated to the Society of Arts of
Scotland a description of a small apparatus by which
the nature and effects of the diorama could be ex-
hibited in an instructing manner. But to understand
this, it is necessary to advert to Daguerre's account of

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1343.]

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

the mode of painting dioramic pictures, as divulged by
him to the French government. A dioramic picture
is painted on both sides. It is a large piece of lawn
or calico, if possible without a seam, or at least with
seams as little perceptible as may be necessary. The
colours laid on the front of the picture are viewed by
reflected light coming from a point above and between
the spectator and the picture ; while those laid on the
back of the picture are viewed by transmitted light,
emanating from a window behind. In painting the
front, the • lights,* or white tints, are left out, so as to
admit the passage of light through the picture from
behind : and even in the dark parts no body-colours
are used ; for though they would show well by reflected
light, they would appear as mere black irregular masses
by transmitted light. While painting the front, the
painter works by reflected lignt ; but while painting
the back, by transmitted light; because the effects
intended to be produced can only thus be tested.

Generally speaking, when a dioramic scene is repre-
sented by day, and then by evening or moonlight, the
day effect is painted on the front of the picture, and
the night effect on the back ; and the admission of
light is regulated according as the picture is to be
viewed by reflected or transmitted light; in other
words, according as it is to be a picture or a trans-
parency. But in other cases a subject more or less
different from the first is represented on the back, by
which many of those startling effects have been pro-
duced which are so familiar to the visitors at the ex-
hibition in the Regent's Park. The exhibition-room,
be it large or small, is provided with shutters, by
which the amount of light to be admitted can always
be regulated, from broad daylight to total exclusion.
Ufog is to be represented, as it has been in many ex-
hibited dioramas, the picture is placed at a greater or
less distance behind a transparent screen ; the greater
the distance, the more dim and foggy will the scene
necessarily appear.

All these arrangements, in order to produce the
desired effect to the eye of a spectator, must be so
managed that the picture may be at a distance from
the eye, in a kind of room or recess ; and it is probable
that this circumstance led Mr. Tait to the suggestion
of a portable diorama. The machine may be a small
oblong box, of any dimensions, to be viewed at one
end. Small stretching-frames are prepared, over which
pieces of transparent paper or linen are stretched to
form the pictures. Any one of these, when painted
and about to be used, is inserted in a groove in the
interior of the box, at a distance equal to two-thirds of
the length of the box from the end at which the eye
is applied. The eye-hole is not simply a circular or
square hole cut in the end of the box, but is a small
tube two or three inches in length, placed opposite
the * point of sight ' in the picture. The tube projects
a little from the box, in order to assist the adjustment
of the eye ; and the inner end is expanded sufficiently
to expose to view the whole of the picture in the box.

As a means of admitting light to act upon both sides
of the picture at pleasure, two hinged covers are used,
one at the ton of the box, and the other at the end
remote from tne eye. Each cover, by a small pulley
and balance weight, or any similar contrivance, is
made to remain stationary in any required position.
When the top cover is closed and the end one open,
light falls on the back, but not on the front of the
picture, and a person applying his eye at the tube
would see the picture only by transmitted light. When
the top cover is open and the ends are closed, the
reverse of that occurs, and a spectator views the
picture by reflected light. When any medium* ar-
rangement is adopted, such as one cover being open
and the other partially closed, one closed and the other

partially closed, or both partially closed, numerous varia-
tions of light and shade and tint in the picture are ob-
served. Passing gleams of sunshine, day melting into
night, and this into moonlight — and all similar changes,
may be imitated with some approach to completeness.

The inside of the eye-tube, and everything which
could distract the eye from the picture, is painted
black ; while the inner surfaces of the covers which
may aid in reflecting light upon the picture are
painted white. Screens of fine tissue-paper. Persian
silk, or some other thin substance, are placed across
the openings when the covers are raised, if a subdued
light be required; and remarkable modifications of
the effect may be produced by having these media
coloured. The pictures may be viewed by the naked
eye through the tube, or a lens might be employed to
alter the effect.

It is not difficult to see that such a contrivance is an
exact copy of the large diorama, in all its essential
features. The construction of the box is a matter
involving no great mechanical difficulties. The paint-
ing of the pictures is the feature which calls for most
talent : for here attention must be paid to the different
character or tone which reflected light and transmitted
light throw over a picture, to the degree of opacity or
transparency which different pigments will* present,
to the hues which natural scenery exhibits at different
hours of the day, and to the character of the shadows
produced by objects. The more carefully these mat-
ters are attended to, the better will be the miniature
diorama.

There has been, within the last year or two, a kind
of pictorial exhibition in London, called " Dissolving
Views.' These views are examples of a superior kind of
phantasmagoric exhibition, or " magic-Ian tern,"' in
which striking effects are produced by simple but very
ingenious means.

The phenomenon of a " dissolving " view consists
in the adjustment of two views, or two lantern slides,
in such a manner that one shall gradually disappear
while the other comes in sight, the images of both
occupying the same spot on the screen or wall. It
is said that a German named Philipsthal, who intro-
duced the phantasmagoria about sixty years ago, also
gave the first rough idea of the "dissolving" views.
He was in the habit of representing, among other sub-
jects, the raising of the gnost of Samuel by the Witch
of Endor, in which he made the phantom appear to
rise from the ground; but he conceived that if he em-
ployed two lanterns and slides, making the wick of one
rise while he lowered that of the other, and directing
both images to one spot, a more aerial and supernatu-
ral effect might be produced. This method succeeded,
and Philipsthal was led to the adoption of similar ar-
rangements for representing landscape scenery.

The improvements which have been made within the
last few years have brought this plan to a point of
great excellence. Two sliders or painted glasses are
used, illuminated by one intense jet, having their de-
vices represented on a screen, the localization to one
spot being effected by optical means. While one pic-
ture is being exhibited, the other is hidden by a cover
or shutter ; and the effect of " dissolving," which is
very remarkable, is produced by the gradual and si-
multaneous closing of one picture and opening of
another. If, while one picture is being exhibited, the
other is being changed for a third, and if while this
third picture is under exhibition the second be ex
changed for a fourth, and so on, an extensive series
may be exhibited, each one apparently melting or
dissolving into the succeeding one. This, like many
other contrivances, appears simple enough when
known ; but the simplicity does not detract from the
merit of the artists who contrived the arrangement.

B 2

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[January 7.

t fl. Common Bat (Vwprrtiho pipiitrrllus) ; 6, Great Bat (V. nortula) ; C, Long eared Ikt (V. nnriUu).]

CURIOSITIES OF BRITISH NATURAL
HISTORY.

BATS.

It may surprise some of our readers to be informed
that sixteen or seventeen distinct species of bats are
natives of the British Islands. Of these, however, seve-
ral arc extremely rare, and restricted to certain locali-
ties ; but some, as the Pipistrelle, or common bat, and
the long-eared bat ( Vespertilio auritu*X are everywhere
abundant ; nor is the great bat ( V. Noctula) of unfre-
quent occurrence.

Of all the mammalia the bats alone emulate in their
aerial endowments the feathered tenants of the sky ;
they are essentially flying insectivora. In the air they
pass the active periods of their existence, and revel in
the exercise of their faculties. Their organs of flight,
admirably adapted for their destined purpose, do not
consist, as in the bird, of stiff feathers based upon the
bones of the fore-arm, but of a membranous expansion
stretched over and between the limbs, and to which the
bones of the limbs, especially those of the elongated
fingers, serve the same purpose as the strips of whale-
bone in am umbrella. This apparatus can be folded
up, and the limbs employed in progression on the
ground ; on a level surface, however, the bat shuffles
awkwardly but quickly along. In the hollo wb of de-
cayed trees, in the crevices of mouldering masonry,
or in rough chinks and fissures, it can crawl and climb
about with tolerable rapidity, as also about the wire-
work of a cage, a circumstance we have often witnessed.
It is a smooth and level surface that most embarrasses
the bat, but even then it can easily take wing. In the
air the bat is all alertness, — it is here that these singu-
lar creatures pursue their insect prey— uttering their
short sharp cry as they wheel in circling flights, or
perform their abrupt and zigzag evolutions. Bats, says
White, " drink on the wing like swallows, by sipping

the surface as they play over pools and streams. They
love to frequent waters, not only for the sake of drink-
ing, but also on account of the insects, which are foui.d
over them in the greatest plenty." Often during a
warm summer evening have we 'seen numbers, per-
haps several scores, of the common bat ( V. Pipistreuus)
flitting over pools, in chase of gnats and similar insects,
or gambolling with each other in a mazy dance, ever
and anon uttering sharp shrill cries of exultation and
delight ; an interesting spectacle to such as love to
" trace the woods and lawns and living stream at eve."

The bat is a twilight and nocturnal rambler: it
passes the day in its retreat suspended head downwards,
clinging to any roughness or projection by the claws
of its hinder feet. In this position it hibernates in a
state of lethargy ; numbers congregating together.
Church steeples, hollow trees, old barns, caverns, and
similar retreats are its lurking-places ; and vast num-
bers are often found crowded closely together and form-
ing a compact mass. Pennant states that on one occa-
sion, as he was informed by the Rev. Dr. Backhouse,
one hundred and eighty-five were taken from under
the eaves of Queen % s College, Cambridge, and on the
next night sixty-three more ; all in a torpid condition.
They were all of one species, viz., the Noctule, or
great bat ( V. Noctttla\ tne largest of our British bats,
measuring fourteen or fifteen inches in the extent of
the wings. The great horse-shoe bat haunts the
deepest recesses of caverns, where no rays of light can
enter. It is found in the caverns at Clifton, and in
Kent's Hole near Torquay, a dark and gloomy cavern,
where the lesser horse-shoe bat also takes up its abode.

It has been suspected that some of our British bats
may possibly migrate, and pass the winter, like the
swallow, in some genial region where their insect prey
is abundant. For this supposition there is not the
slightest foundation : all our bats hybernate ; but the
period at which they become torpid in their retreats,

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and revive to visit again " the glimpses of the moon,"
differs in the different species. The Pipistrelle, or com-
mon British hat, is the soonest roused from its lethargic
trance. It usually appears in March, and does not
retire until the winter has decidedly set in, and its
insect food has disappeared. Yet during the winter it
will often rouse up and flit about, and that too during
the middle of the day, as we have ourselves often wit-
nessed. We have seen it abroad in November and
December, though the weather was cold, and a friend
shot one of these bats just before Christmas in the
middle of the day, which, though the temperature was
near or at the freezing-point, was clear and bright.
The Noctule appears at the latter end of April, and
seeks its winter dormitory in August. The long-eared
bat (Plecotus auritus) is active in the early part of
October.

The various species of our bats differ more or less
distinctly from each other in the style and character
of their flight. The Pipistrelle flits quickly, making
abrupt and zigzag turns, and often skims near the
ground ; the Noctule, which was first noticed as an
English bat by White, sweeps high in the air on
powerful wings, whence he termed it altivolans. On
one occasion we saw three or four of this species
wheeling round a row of sycamore trees in Kent, ut-
tering continually sharp grating cries. The chafer
(Melolontha vulgaris) was at the same time flying
about in yreat numbers, and no doubt proved a source
of attraction to them. The flight of the long-eared
bat is rapid, and it makes large circles, or courses to
and fro like the swallow. In the aerial evolutions of
the bats, the tail and membrane extending between
the two hind limbs act as a rudder, enabling the ani-
mals to turn more or less abruptly: it would seem
moreover that the tail is to a certain extent a prehen-
sile organ. Mr. Bell, who first noticed the circum-
stance, observes, that a small portion of the tail in
most of our bats is exserted beyond the margin of the
interfemoral membrane, and in ascending or descend-
ing any rough perpendicular surface this little caudal
finger hooks upon such projections as occur, so as to
add to the creature's security. When a bat traverses
the wires of a cage this action of the tail is particularly
conspicuous.

White observes that it is a common notion that bats
will descend chimneys •• and gnaw men's bacon," and
adds that the story is by no means improbable, as a
tame bat did not refuse raw flesh, though insects seemed
to be most acceptable. The common bat often enters
larders, and has been seen clinging to a joint of meat
in the act of making a hearty meal upon it. Of this
circumstance we are assured by Mr. Bell.

That bats can be tamed is a remarkable fact ; but
various species differ in the degrees of their docility.
Mr. White's bat, a Pipistrelle, was so tame, that it
would take flies out of a person's hand. "If you
gave it anything to eat it brought its wings round
before the mouth, hovering, and hiding its head in the
manner of birds of prey when they feed. The adroit-
ness it showed in shearing off the wings of the flies,
which were always rejected, was worthy of observation,
and pleased me much.''

In the « Proceedings of the Zoological Society ' for
1834 we find the following interesting details relative
to the habits of the Pipistrelle in captivity, by Mr. G.
Daniell. In July, 1833, he received five specimens of
this little bat from Elvetham, Hampshire ; all were
females, and pregnant. " They had been kept in a tin
powder-canister for several days, and on being turned
loose into a common packing-case with a few strips of
deal nailed over it to fdrm a cage, they exhibited much
activity, progressing rapidly along the bottom of the
box, ascending the bars to the top, and then throwing

themselves off as if endeavouring to fly. They ate flies
when offered to them, seizing them with the greatest
eagerness, and devouring them greedily, all of them
congregating together at the end of the box at which
they were fed, crawling over, snapping at, and biting
each other, at the same time uttering a grating kind of
squeak. Cooked meat was next presented to them, and
rejected ; but raw beef was eaten by them with avidity,
and with an evident preference for such pieces as had
been moistened with water. This answered a double
purpose : the weather being warm, numbers of blue-
Dottle flies (Musca vomitoria, Linn.) were attracted oy
the meat, and on approaching within range of the
bat's wings were struck down by their action, the ani-
mal itself falling at the same moment with all its
membranes expanded and cowering over the prostrate
fly, with its head thrust under, in order to secure its
prey. When the head was again drawn forth, the
membranes were immediately closed, and the fly was
observed to be invariably, taken by the head. Mastica-
tion appeared to be a laboured occupation, consisting
of a succession of eager bites or snaps, the sucking
process (if it may be so termed) by which the insect
was drawn into the mouth being much assisted by the
looseness of the lips. Several minutes were employed
in devouring a large fly. In the first instance the flies
were eaten entire, but Mr. Daniell afterwards observed
detached wings in the bottom of the box. These, how-
ever, he never saw rejected, and he is inclined to think
that they are generally swallowed. A slice of beef at-
tached to the side of the box was found not only to save
trouble in feeding, but also, by attracting the flies, to
afford good sport in observing the animalB obtain their
food by this new kind of bat-fowling. Their olfactory
nerves appear to be very acutely sensible. When
hanging fey their posterior extremities and attached to
one of the bars in front of the cage, a small piece of
beef at a little distance from their noses would remain
unnoticed ; but when a fly was placed in the same situ-
ation, they would instantly begin snapping at it. The
beef they would eat when hungry, but they never re-
fused a fly. In the daytime they often clustered together
in a corner, but towards the evening they became very
lively, and gave rapid utterance to their harsh grating
notes. One of them died on the fifth day after they
came into Mr. Daniell's possession, two on the four-
teenth, the fourth survived until the eighteenth, and
the fifth until the nineteenth day." Each was found to
contain a single young one. On the 16th of May, 1834,
the same gentleman procured five specimens of the
Noctule bat, four females and a male. The latter,
which died in two days, was very impatient of confine-
ment, restless and savage, snapping at the females and
breaking his teeth in his attempts to escape by biting
the wires of the cage. He constantly rejected food.
The females were also at first sulky, but in about two
days began to eat, preferring small bits of beef in pre-
ference to flies, beetles, or gentles. In the course of
a few days three of these died, each found to be preg-
nant with a single offspring. The survivor lived for
more than a month, and fed in preference upon the
hearts and livers of fowls : she rejected large flies, but
partially devoured one or two chafers {Melolontha
vulgaris). In taking food, it was remarked that the
wings were not thrown forward as in the Pipistrelle.
the food being seized with an action similar to that ol
a dog. The water that drained from the food was
lapped, but the Noctule did not raise its head in drink-
ing as the Pipistrelle was observed to do. This Noctule
took great pains in cleansing herself; she used the
hinder limbs as combs, parting the hair on either side
from head to tail, and forming a straight line down the
middle of the back. The membrane of the wings was
cleaned by the creature's nose, which it forced through

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[January 7,

the folds so as to expand them. During her captivity
she brought forth a single offspring perfectly destitute
of hair and blind : this she wrapped up so closely as to
prevent any observation being made. In the evening
of the day after giving birth to her offspring she died.
But the young one was alive, and attached to the teat
of the mother; whence it was removed, wrapped in
warm flannel, and fed with milk, which it took from a
sponge. It survived eight days, at which time its eyes
had not opened, and it had acquired very little hair.
The long-eared bat seems to be far more docile than
the Noctule. In captivity this elegant species is con-
fident and familiar, very careful in cleaning its fur,
and enjoying to gambol and play with others of its
species, pretending to bite as we see dogs do when in
good-humoured sport. Mr. Bell informs us that Mr.
James Sowerby possessed a lon«2j-eared bat, which
when at liberty in the parlour would come to the hand
of those who held a fly towards it, and take the insect
without hesitation. " If the insect were held between
the lips, the bat would then settle on its young patron's
cheek, and take the fly with great gentleness from
the mouth ; and so far was this familiarity carried, that
when either of my young friends made a humming
noise with the mouth in imitation of an insect, the bat
would search about the lips for the promised dainty."

The Barbastelle ( Vespertilio Barbastellus, Linn.) is
timid and restless, and very impatient of confinement.
This bat seems to become torpid more readily than
most of our British bats, and also more completely so.
The reddish-grey bat {Vespertilio Nattereri) was
found by Mr. Bell to be very familiar and confiding,
readily taking food from the hand ; while the whiskered
bat {y. mystacinus) is timid and restless, and, refusing
food, soon dies after its capture. The Barbastelle, the
long-eared bat, and the two last mentioned, often hy-
bernate in caverns. Mr. BelFs specimens were found
with others in a large chalk cavern in Kent excavated
at the bottom of a shaft seventy feet deep.

With regard to the senses possessed by these interest-
ing animals, those of* smell and hearing are, as might
be expected from the development of their respective
organs, wonderfully acute. Connected with the refine-
ment of these senses, we often find, as in the horse-shoe
bat, the nose furnished with a membranous foliation
of most delicate structure and complex in its arrange-
ment ; or, as in the long-eared bat, the external mem-
branous ears largely expanded, having furrows and an
inner reduplication, and capable of being folded down.
The sight also is quick, and the position of the eyes,
which are small, but bright, is favourable for the chase
and accurate seizure of insects during rapid flight.

There is a singular property with which the bat is
endowed, too remarkable and curious to be passed al-
together unnoticed. The wings of these creatures
consist, as we have seen, of a delicate and nearly naked
membrane of vast amplitude considering the size of
the body ; but besides this, the nose is in some furnished
with a membranous foliation, and in others the exter-
nal membranous ears are enormously developed. Now
these membranous tissues have their sensibility so
high, that something like a new sense thereby accrues,
as if in aid of that of sight. The modified impressions
which the air in quiescence, or in motion, however
slight, communicates ; the tremulous jar of its currents,
its temperature, the indescribable condition of such
portions of air as are in contact with different bodies,
are all apparently appreciated by the bat. If the eyes
of a bat be covered up, nay, if it be even cruelly de-
prived of sight, it will pursue its course about a room
with a thousand obstacles in its way, avoiding them
all, neither dashing against a wall nor flying foul of
the smallest thing, but threading its way with the
utmost precision and quickness, and passing adroitly

through apertures, or the interspaces of threads placed
purposely across the apartment. This endowment,
which almost exceeds belief, has been abundantly de-
monstrated by the experiments of Spallanzani and
others : it is the sense of touch refined to the highest
and most exquisite degree of perfection. Thus arc
the bats aerial in feeling as in habits.

Full, then, of interest is the history of our British
Bats, of which we have selected a few details. To
watch their ways and actions, what time evening
assumes *' her gradual dusky veil," when the silence
of the tranquil scene is unbroken, save by their sharp
reiterated cry, the churr of the goatsucker, and drowsy
hum of the shard-borne beetle, is alike pleasing to the
contemplative man and the naturalist.

THE PRIVILEGES AND LIABILITIES OF
BRITISH SHIPPING.

Accustomed as we are to the use of articles of foreign
produce, and conscious as we may be of the vast mari-
time arrangements involved in the importation of such
articles into England, there are yet probably few,
unconnected commercially with the subject, who
bestow much thought on the privileges conceded to
English shipping, ship-owners, and commanders, in
this respect. The tea, the sugar, the hemp, the timber,
the wine, which find their way to England, must
obviously do so in ships belonging either to British or
to foreign ship-owners ; and the determination of the
ratio in which this freighting privilege shall be divided
has led to laws and regulations which merit a little
attention.

Mr. M'Culloch states that so long ago as the reign
of Henry VII. a law existed whereby the importation
of certain commodities was prohibited, unless imported
in ships belonging to British owners and manned by
British seamen. In the early part of the reign of
Elizabeth foreign ships were excluded from our
fisheries and coasting-trade. In the time of the Com-
monwealth foreign snips, belonging to whatever nation,
were prohibited from trading with the plantations in
America, without having previously obtained a licence.
These however were minor regulations, quite eclipsed
by a law passed in 1631, which gave a tinge to the
maritime transactions of England from that time down
to a comparatively recent period. England was at
that period in bitter enmity with Holland, whose ship-
owners were the great carriers for nearly all the nations
of Europe ; and it was to crush this power in a rival
nation that the republican parliament passed the law
in question. By the terms of this enactment, no goods
or commodities whatever, grown, produced, or manu-
factured in Asia, Africa, or America, could be im-
ported into England, Ireland, or the Colonies, except
in ships belonging to English subjects, and of which
the master and the greater number of the crew were
also English. The import-trade of three out of the
four quarters of the globe having been thus secured
to the English ship-owners, the act proceeded to
secure to them as much as possible of the European
trade ; and for this purpose it declared that no com-
modities of any European country should be imported
into England, except by English ships, or by ships
belonging to the countries where the exported goods
were produced. This latter clause was intended ex-
pressly to act against the Dutch ; for scarcely any of
their produce came at that time to England, the mer-
chant-ships of Holland having more frequently come
to this country in the capacity of carriers for other
countries. By the new law, any commodities imported
from France, Spain, or Italy, tor example, were to be
brought either in English snips, or in French, Spanish,

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or Italian ships, as the case might be ; thus excluding
the carrying ships of Holland.

Shortly afterwards the prohibition was relaxed to
this extent : that while Russian and Turkish produce,
as well as timber, grain, tar, hemp, flax, wine, spirits,
sugar, and a few other articles, were to remain subject
to the above regulations, all other commodities might
be imported in any ships whatever. But this change
was of little importance, for all the most important
articles came under the " exceptions." In the reign
of Charles II. the national animosity between England
and Holland led to an enactment of extreme rigour,
carrying the maritime exclusiveness to an extravagant
extent ; for it prohibited the importation from Hol-
land, the Netherlands, and Germany, of a long list of
commodities, under any circumstances, or in any
vessels, whether British or foreign, under the penalty
of seizure and confiscation of the ships and goods.
This last-mentioned act was virtually one of exclusion
rather than of commercial regulation ; but it had for
many years considerable influence on foreign ship-
owners.

It was not until a very recent period (1833) that
these laws were placed upon such a footing as to allow
to foreign ships a privilege at all analogous to that
enjoyed by English ; and this change was only wrought
when experience showed that other nations were about
to retaliate. It may be flattering to the national vanity
to know that British ships and British seamen are
employed to bring foreign produce to our shore ; but
the maintenance of an analogous principle by other
countries would be a perfectly just retaliation. The
Americans in 1787, and the Northern powers of
Europe at a later period, adopted, or proposed to
adopt, measures avowedly copied; from the navigation
laws of England ; so that if timely concessions had not
been made, the English ship-owners would have
severely suffered.

The regulations which came into force nine years
ago, respecting the relative privileges of British and
foreign shipping in importing foreign produce into
England, involve the following as the chief points : —
A list of what are called " enumerated articles " in-
cludes those which must be imported under one of
these three circumstances : in British ships ; in ships of
the country where the goods were produced ; or in ships
of the country from whence the goods were shipped.
This list includes masts, timber, boards, tar, tallow,
hemp, flax, currants, raisins, figs, prunes, olive oil,
corn or grain, wine, brandy, tobacco, wool, shumac,
madder, madder-roots, barilla, brimstone, oak-bark,
cork, oranges, lemon, linseed, rape-seed, and clover-
seed. Goods which are the produce or growth or
manufacture of Asia, Africa, or America, are not to
be imported into England from any European country,
with some few exceptions: this evidently has rela-
tion to the employment of English shipping, in pre-
ference to foreign European shipping, in bringing
produce from distant countries to England. All
goods imported from the Channel Islands must freight
British ships only. All exports to our own colonies
are to be in British ships ; as likewise goods carried
coastwise from one part of the British Islands to
another, or from any one of our colonies to another.
Lastly, any goods taken to one of our colonies in a
foreign ship must be so taken only in a ship of the
country where the goods were produced, or from
whence they were exported.

As many advantages arc thus given to English ship-
ping over those of foreign countries, it may be asked
now these British ships may be always able to desig-
nate themselves and to maintain their identity as such.
This is effected by a remarkable system of registration
maintained through the medium of the Custom- House

officers. Vessels which are claimed by their owners to
be placed on the registry, must be the property of the
British sovereign's subjects, and must have been built
in the British dominions or dependencies, or have been
prize vessels legally condemned. The collectors and
comptrollers of the Customs are generally the parties
who register the shipping, and who grant certificates
of registry to the owners. So severe are the laws in
this respect, that if any ship were to exercise the pri-
vileges of a British ship before the owners have
obtained a certificate of registry, the ship with the
whole of its contents would become forfeited to the
crown, and might be seized by the officers of the Cus-
toms. In order to reduce the immense mass of ship-
ping within something like navigable order, every
registered ship is supposed to *' belong " to some par-
ticular British port, the Customs' officers of which
grant the requisite certificate, and make the requisite
entry in the register. The port to which a ship is said
to belong is generally the nearest one to the residence
of the chief owner of the vessel. The proprietorship
of every ship, if there be more than one owner, is sup-
posed to be divided into sixty-four equal parts or
shares, which may be held by few or many share-
holders, not exceeding thirty-two ; and not only must
every shareholder's name be entered on the certificate
of registry, but if any transfer of shares should take
place, the registry must be re-effected. No person,
with some few exceptions, who has taken the oath of
allegiance to a foreign power can become the owner
of a British ship.

In order that the registry may be a bond fide one, it
is necessary that the kind and quality of the ship be
recorded ; and in order to effect this, every ship is
thoroughly examined and surveyed before registry by
certain Customs' officers and shipwrights, to determine
the tonnage and the general character of the ship. The
ship is registered by a particular name, which is not
to fee afterwards changed. If the vessel after being
registered undergoes any material alterations, it must
be registered anew. If the vessel undergoes repairs
in a foreign country exceeding the amount of \L per
ton burden, it ceases to be a British ship, unless the
owners or commander can show that such repairs were
absolutely necessary at the time for the safe completion
of the voyage.

It will thus be perceived that a great many condi-
tions must be fulfilled before a vessel can rank as a
British ship, and share in the privileges granted to
British shipping. But besides trie vessel itself, there
are other matters to be attended to before a ship can
engage in commerce as a British ship. For instance,
every such ship must be navigated during the whole
of every voyage, whether with a cargo or in ballast, in
every part of the world, by a master who is a British
subject, and by a crew of which three-fourths at least
are British seamen. If the ship is employed in the
coasting trade or in fishing on the British coasts, the
whole of the crew must be British seamen. If on any
occasion a registered ship is navigated by more than
the prescribed number of foreign seamen, a penalty of
10/. for each one in excess is incurred.

These regulations render necessary a determination
of the question, not only what constitutes a British
ship, but who are British seamen ? A British seaman,
in the legal acceptation of the term, must be a natural-
born subject of the British sovereign, or must have
been naturalized by act of parliament, or must have
been made a denizen, or have become a British subject
by the conquest or cession of some newly-acquired ter-
ritory, or (being a foreigner) must have served on
board an English ship of war, in time of war, for the
space of three years. Any of these may obtain the pri-
vileges, such as they are, of British seamen, and are

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[January 7,

protected by certain laws respecting: hiring, payment
of wages, and the conduct of tneir officers.

A committee of the House of Commons, appointed
in 1836 to inquire into the causes of the numerous
shipwrecks which occurred about that time, suggested,
in reference to the registration of ships and seamen,
that a * Mercantile Marine Board/ appointed for the
control of merchant-ships generally, snould perfect " a
system of classification of ships, to the utmost attain-
able point of accurately defining, by such classification,
the real state and condition of every ship registered ;"
—should " collect information as to the best materials
for building, surveying, fitting-out, equipping, load-
ing, and furnishing with the requisite supply of men,
provisions, water, and boats, all ships built and regis-
tered in the United Kingdom ;" — should form certain
standards of qualification in seamanship, navigation,
and nautical astronomy, to be attained by officers and
masters before receiving licences of appointment in
the merchant-service ; — and should form registry-offices
for recording the name, age, capacity, and character
of British merchant-seamen, with a view to advance
the praiseworthy and set aside the unfitting. These
recommendations have not yet been acted on. Mean-
while the " underwriters," or insurers of ships, have
adopted a system of registration for their own pur-
poses well worthy of our notice in a future article.

Usefulness of AJoles. — Our Correspoudeut, whose communica-
tion on the utility of moles 111 destroying the wire -worm and
other grubs which feed on the plants of the young corn will be
found in No. 618, has furnished the following additional infor-
mation on this subject : — •• I had," he says, " a small field of
rye-grass and clover, out end of which, early in the spring, was
like a honeycomb from workings of moles. A farmer would
have destroyed the workers ; I, on the contrary, protected them,
and not one was destroyed : but I took care to level the mould
which tbey threw up almost every day ; and now to the practical
result I lately cut my crop, which was a very good one gene-
rally ; but at the end, where the moles worked, the crop wee
better than in any other part; and now not a mole can be dis-
covered in the field. Tbey did the work designed to them by a
wise Providence— ate up all the grubs which would have de-
stroyed my young plants, and theu took their departure to some
neighbour s field, where doubtless they will be trapped. Another
remark as regards birds : for example, as to those small birds
which are seeu upon fruit-trees, such as the titmouse : the vulgar
opinion is that they destroy the buds, and thus injure or ruin the
crop. Now I never suffer one of that kind of birds to be killed,
but rejoice to see them, and protect them ; and I would rather
see a superabundance of sparrows than none at all, even by way
of profit ; and the consequence is, that I have very frequently
had a crop of fruit when my neighbours have had none. Again,
as you pass cottage-gardens, you very frequently see the leaves
eaten off the cabbages and gooseberry and currant bushes growing
near the doors by caterpillars ; whilst cabbages in the fields and
fruit-trees at a distance from houses are flourishing and left un-
touched. Here again the same cause is in operation ; the small
birds, which would have destroyed the insects, are driven from
the doors, but perform their natural operations at a distance
from thera.' ,

Autumnal Travelkng in Siberia, — We made our first journey
en traineau here ; and bad enough it was in that way — on wheels
it would have been impossible. The road was very mountain-
ous, and lay through forests for eight or ten versts together,
where the snow was drilled to the height of many feet; through
which we had to force our way, it not being yet sufficiently hard
to resist the horses' feet. In the rapid descent! we constantly
rolled over and over ; and three horses to a light traineau had the
greatest difficulty in getting up the long sleep hills of snow,
where there was no solid footing for them. What we should
have done with our carriage ou such roads we know not ; and we
had still a long journey before us before we should come to any
town where we could leave it till our return from the far East,
and to take it on the whole way was out of the question. The
next day a council of war was held; when it was decided we

should go on to Durnaoul on wheels, a distance of two hundred
and eighty versts : hut the road was represented as good, and we
were told we should find much snow, it being mostly over a dead
flat. Accordingly the carriage was fortified with very strong
ashen shafts, which were fixed all rouud it, so as to force a pas-
sage through the snow in the case of need ; and thus we started
for Baruaoul. Bad as our journey liad been for some time past,
it was evideut we had not reached the maximum, and that every
day the roads would be worse, till the snow had settled down
into solidity, which, in parts where there is little communication,
requires some time. We had generally ten or twelve horses the
whole of this journey, and did not with all average above five
versts an hour. Our first stage was mountainous ; but after that
the steppes began again, with driving snow and wind, almost
amounting to what is called in this country a buran, or whirl-
wind, which is often fatal to travellers if accompanied with snow
iu any quantity. Having tried the e fleet* of fire, water, and air,
under tneir most fearful forms, we are inclined to give the pre-
eminence iu point of horror to the latter. A buran which over-
takes you in a forest is less formidable, because you cannot well
get out of the right track, and the only danger is being buried
alive in the snow. But in an open steppe country, when it is
very violent, the snow which is tailing becomes whirled round,
and mixed with that which the wind raises from the ground ; so
that in broad daylight the driver cannot see an inch before him,
and does not know whether he is jroing to the right or to the left.
Many fatal accidents occur in this way ; carriages being rolled
down precipices, or men and horses frosen to death in the drifted
snow, which naturally collects round the only object which
interrupts its course for miles and miles. — CottreUs Recollec-
tions of Siberia.

Importance of Cities, — If the history of cities and of their in-
fluence on their respective territories be deducted from the history
of humanity, the narrative remaining would be, as we suspect,
of no very attractive description. In such case, the kind of pic-
ture which human society must everywhere have presented
would be such as we see iu the condition, from the earliest time,
of the wandering hordes of Mongolians and Tartars, spread over
the vast flats of Central Asia. In those regions scarcely any-
thing has been u made " by man. But this most happy circum-
stance, as it seems to be accounted — this total absence of any-
thing reminding you of human skill and industry — his never
been found to realize our poetic ideas of pastoral beauty and in-
nocence. It has called forth enough of the squalid and of the
ferocious, but little of the refined, the powerful, or the generous.
If anything be certain, it would seem to be certain that man is
constituted to realise his destiny from his association with rr"M» t
more than from any contact with places. The great agency iu
calling forth his capabilities, whether for good or for evil, is that
of his fellows. The picturesque, accordingly, may be with the
country, but the intellectual, speaking generally, must be with
the town. Agriculture may possess its science, and the farmer,
as well as the landowner, may not be devoid of intelligence ; but
in such connexions, the science and intelligence, in common with
the nourishment of the soil, must be derived, in the main, from
the studies prosecuted in cities, and from the wealth realized iu
the traffic of cities. If pasturage is followed by tillage, and if
tillage is made to partake of the nature of a study and a science,
these signs of improvement are peculiar to lands in which cities
make their appearance, and they become progressive only as
cities become opulent and powerful. — Dr. Famgharis Age of
Cities.

Fossil Trees. — During the progress of the works fom reclaim-
ing the extensive waste called White Moss, between Middleton
and Failsworth, a large number of trees, of enormous magnitude,
have been discovered at a depth of about six feet ; some of the
oaks have been nearly twelve feet in girth and forty feet in
length. Several trees of the oak, fir, and yew tribe have been
found to be thoroughly sound, even to the outermost part.
Many of the oak-trees have proved more tough and flexible than
this tree is under ordinary circumstances. A large quantity of
the timber has most unquestionably been on fire. It «eems that
during some remote age the fossil-trees at White Moss tave been
burnt, for there are examples of the main shaft of these timbers
having been consumed. Singular as it may appear, the trees
found in this moss have invariably been met with lying iu a
direction either south-east or due cast.

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rfjhnndalas.— From ' Les Hiutlooa* of Solvyn.]

THE CASTES AND TRIBES OF INDIA.

Thf. institution of castes in India is one of the most
curious chapters in the social history of mankind. The
distinction of ranks and the separation of professions
appear to have been established before the remotest
era which Hindoo tradition reaches. According to
their sacred books the Brahmen proceeded from the
mouth of the Creator, which is the seat of wisdom ;
the Cshatriya from his arm ; the Vaisya from his
thigh ; and the Sudra from his foot. These castes
comprise the four orders of a primitive state of society.
The Brahmen were priests, the Cshatriyas soldiers,
the Vaisyas husbandmen, and the Sudras servants and
labourers. The Hindoo religion teaches its followers
that it would be impious to confound these different
orders. This distinction of caste is the framework of
Hindoo society, and all its inconveniences and palpable
injustice have been submitted to for ages from a sense
of religious duty. The punishment for crime varies in
severity with the caste to which the offender belongs,
and while the law is merciless towards the Sudra, its
force is mitigated when persons of the three higher
castes are brought within its reach. In other matters
the abus^ of natural rights is equally outrageous. For
the interest of money on loan the Brahmen only pays
two per cent., while three per cent, is exacted from
the Cshatriya, four per cent, from the Vaisya, and five
per cent, from the Sudra. Mill says : — '* As much as
the Brahmen is an object of veneration, so much is

no. 692.

the Sudra an object of contempt and even of abhor-
rence to the other classes of nis countrymen. The
business of the Sudra is servile labour, and their de-
gradation inhuman. Not only is the most abject and
grovelling submission imposed upon them as a reli-
gious duty, but they are driven from their iust and
equal share in all the advantages of the social institu-
tion." He then cites passages from the sacred books
which show that the Sudra was created for the purpose
of serving Brahmens; that he was not permitted to
accumulate personal property ; and that a Brahmen
must never read the Veda (the sacred scriptures of the
Hindoos) in the presence of Sudras. In the new edi-
tion of Mill, by Horace Hayman Wilson, Esq., the
Professor of Sanscrit at Oxford, there is the following
important note on this passage. Professor Wilson
sa y S : — « The law does not justify the term ' abhor-
rence.' Mr. Mill has collected the extreme texts,
and has passed over all the favourable or qualifying
passages. The condition of a Sudra in the Hindu
system was infinitely preferable to that of the helot,
the slave, or the serfs of the Greek, the Roman, and
the feudal systems. He wa^; independent; his services
were optional : they were not agricultural, but domes-
tic and personal, and claimed adequate compensation.
He had the power of accumulating wealth, or injunc-
tions against his so doing would have been superfluous.
He had the opportunity of rising to rank, for the
Puranas record dynasties of Sudra kings, and even
Manu notices their existence. He might study and

VfTC

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[January 14

teach religious knowledge, and he might perform reli-
gious acts. No doubt the Sudra was considered in
some degree the property of the Brahmen, but he had
rights, and privileges, and freedom, much beyond any
other of the servile classes of antiquity." Mr. Mill
himself, in a note elsewhere, observes that " so incon-
sistent with the laws of human welfare are the institu-
tions described in the ancient Hindu books, that they
never could have been observed with any accuracy ;
and when we consider the powerful causes which have
operated so long to draw, or rather to force the Hin-
doos from their inconvenient institutions and customs,
the only source of wonder is, that the state of society
which they now exhibit should hold so great a resem-
blance to that which is depicted in their books." In
certain cases of necessity tne three higher castes were
permitted to have recourse for subsistence to the em-
ployments of the class or classes below them ; but the
Sudra, being the lowest, was confined to the species of
labour assigned to him, and in seasons of public dis-
tress the competition of the Vaisya, or third class,
might come to aggravate his previous misery. But,
as Professor Wilson points out, lie had a resort which
the other castes were denied,— emigration ; and subse-
quently the institution of mixed or impure castes
threw open their avocations to him. Of these lower
castes we must here give a brief notion.

The origin of mixed or impure castes is to be as-
cribed to the force of circumstances which laws could
not prevent. Children were bom whose parents be-
longed to dhTerent castes, and they in consequence
belonged to no caste, and could not fall into any of the
established employments. The infringement of the
sacred laws to which they owed their birth rendered
them inferior to the degraded Sudra. Charity or
plunder could alone furnish them with the means of
subsistence. When the number of these outcasts
became so great as to render them dangerous to
society, the Brahmen, by supernatural means, as the
sacred books allege, created a sovereign endowed with
the power of arresting the evils of this disordered
state. He classified these outcasts, and assigned to
each its particular occupation. Instead of plunderers,
they became artisans, practised handicrafts, worked in
metals, the subdivision of classes being equal to the
number of additional occupations which the exigencies
of society at the time demanded. This process, when-
ever it took place, marks the commencement of a new
social era. The division of the older society into four
classes, comprehending priests, soldiers, husbandmen,
and servants, was too simple for a more advanced
period. Thirty-six branches of the impure class are
mentioned in the sacred books, but the number, as
well as the avocation of each, is variously stated by
different writers. The lowest caste of all is the off-
spring of a Sudra with a woman of the sacred caste.
This tribe are called Chandalas. Carrying out the
corpses of the dead, the execution of criminals, and
other degrading and uncleanly employments, are per^
formed by this caste. They are prohibited from living
in towns, their very presence being regarded as a
pollution ; and on meeting a person of a higher caste
they are compelled to turn aside lest he should con-
sider himself contaminated by their approach ; and
yet, while this and other castes are submitting to these
indignities and degradations, they are alive to the
" pride" rather than to the " shame " of caste. Professor
Wilson says :— " The lowest native is no outcast; he
has an acknowledged place in society; he is the
member of a class ; ana he is invariably more reten-
tive of the distinction than those above him."'

THE WALHALLA.

Thk 19th of October, 1842, was a memorable day for
Bavaria and its king, for it was that on which was in-
augurated a most noble structure, reared for a most
noble purpose — to serve as a Pantheon consecrated to
genius and intellect— to the heroes, the philosophers,
and the poets of universal Germany. Had Lud-
wig of Bavaria accomplished nothing else, that single
edifice would have amply sufficed for his fame, and
would have placed his name by the side of those of
Pericles and Hadrian, of Leo and the Medici. But
when we also call to mind the numerous splendid
structures with which he has graced Munich,* render-
ing it a sanctuary of art, and raising it from compara-
tive obscurity to a very high rank among the capitals
of Europe, and that within the short space of twenty
years, we have cause to feel astonished ; nor is our
astonishment altogether unmixed with mortification
when we look at home, and perceive that although
several handsome buildings have been erected of late
years, hardly any of them are of first-rate importance ;
while some which ought to have been treated as such,
and which offered opportunities by far too valuable
to be trifled with, nave turned out more or less
unsatisfactory. No doubt the new houses of parlia-
ment will make amends for preceding failures and
mishaps in our national edifices, and amply console for
them, if consolation it shall be to know that had they
been conducted with the same judgment, ability, and
zeal, many of our public buildings would have been
very greatly superior to what they now are. However,
instead of indulging in ungracious comments relative
to architectural doings at home, let us proceed to
notice what has been done abroad, namely, the Wal-
halla.

The site of the structure has already been shown in
our 274th Number, where the view of it conveys
more of an impression of its general effect in com-
bination with the surrounding scenery than of the
building, the latter being purposely thrown quite into
the distance, so that no more than its general mass is
discernible, for the exterior, having no claim to origi-
nality, did not call for any minuteness of detail.
The structure stands on the north bank of the Danube,
so that its principal front, with ,the flights of steps
and terraces leading up to it, faces the south. It is
not, however, the mere building or temple taken
by itself, but the entire combination produced by the
vast constructions on which it is raised that is so ex-
ceedingly striking and impressive, and is attended with
peculiar grandeur ; and had the same building stood
upon a flat level, and risen immediately from the
ground, the effect would have been altogether different
from and inferior to what it now is, when it sits
" throned " aloft. Hardly do we know any other edifice,
ancient or modern, 4hat has so magnificent an em*
placement. Standing at the bottom of the first flight
of steps, a person can see only the massive Cyclopean
walls of the lower terrace ; nor does he obtain a view
of the portico until he has reached the steps leading
immediately up to it ; but when he does come in sight
of it, it shows itself to all the greater advantage,
bursting upon the eye in towering grandeur, after
being lost to it during all the previous approach.

Of the Walhalia itself, the exterior, as we have said,
has no pretensions whatever, nor does it affect any,
to originality of design ; it being in its architecture
no more than a repetition of the Parthenon. But it;
beautiful as it is, the exterior shows no invention
on the part of the architect (Baron von Klenze% widely
different is the case with regard to the interior, which

* For an account of some of the buildings, see Munich, « Penny
Cyclopaedia/

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is not only most splendid in decoration, but perfectly
novel, and as yet quite unique as regards the form of
the roof, which corresponds with that of the external
one, so that its ends are of pediment shape, and there
are intermediate pediments over the horizontal beams
resting on the massive piers which divide the plan
into three compartments, each of which has a skylight
of plate-glass. Thus, while the temple-like character
of the exterior is perfectly kept .up, and quite free from
windows (except one at the north end, corresponding
with the door at the other), the interior is lighted much
more effectively than would have been the case had
the side walls been pierced with such apertures.* Not
the least recommendation of all attending the internal
form of roof here introduced, is that, while it is alto-
gether original, it is also perfectly consistent and cha-
racteristic, since it so completely accords with the out-
ward shape that the spectator is forcibly reminded that
the exterior has a pediment at each end. There is no
masking — no incongruity — no contradiction of cha-
racter. You do not find a vaulted Roman hall, within
the shell of a Grecian Doric temple. On the other
hand, no space is lost for the roof, as would have been
had there been a flat coffered ceiling ; consequently
greater loftiness is obtained. In addition to these
advantages, this roof promises the utmost durability,
being constructed entirely of cast-iron, but has never-
theless been rendered of most magnificent character
within the ceiling or inner surface, being covered with
plates of gilt bronze. All the other decorations are of
corresponding richness: the pavement is composed
entirely of marble, laid in a pattern whose colours are
black, white, yellow, and red. The same material of
different sorts and hues is employed for the walls,
antae, and columns; nor is the gilding spared, or
polychromic embellishment omitted. Corresponding
with the richness of the materials employed is that of
the design, and all the details. To attempt any descrip-
tion of the latter would be idle, and in regard to the
former it must suffice to state that the interior consists
of a beautiful Ionic order in columns, and in antae at
the angles of the piers between the compartments ;
and above that is another or Caryatic order, of colossal
female figures representing Valkyricc, or Genii of
Walhalla.

In no one respect has cost been spared. The solidity
of the construction is quite extraordinary, for not only
is the whole entirely of marble, both within and v, ith-
out, but the walls are between eight and nine feet in
thickness : it may therefore almost literally be said to
be imperishable, calculated to endure for centuries of
centuries, and to be a monument that will outlive all
but the fame of the illustrious worthies whose busts
are deposited within its sanctuary, — all but the fame of
Ludwig of Bavaria, who needs no other monument to
preserve his name.

A few matter-of-fact particulars may be subjoined,
to state the principal dimensions, as given in Bavarian
measure, which is something less than our own, the
Bavarian foot being to the English one as 0*9517 to
1*000. Extreme length of the plan, including lower
flight of steps, three hundred and seventy feet.
Greatest breadth, or that of first terrace, two hundred
and eighty-six feet. Height of first terrace, sixty-
seven feet ; height from the ground to level of portico,
one hundred and thirty-eight feet ; height to the apex

* How fevr and comparatively small apertures are required for
lighting an apartment, when they are made in the ceiling, instead I
of the sides, is strikingly manifested in the large room of the '
General Commercial Hall, Throadneedle Street, which is now i
beautifully lighted, although there would have been little more i
than darkness visible, had the apertures which are now skylights •
been made side- windows. I

of pediment, one hundred and ninety-five feet. Temple,
measured at base of columns, ninety-eight by two hun-
dred and seventy-five feet: interior, one hundred and
fifty by fifty-seven feet ; or total length, including the
farther compartment at the north end, behind the
screen of columns, one hundred and seventy-eight feet.
Beneath the temple are massive substructures of
vaulted chambers, entered from a door on the first
terrace, and forming an ascending plane from that
level.

Pehn. — A Russian officer, M. Kovenko, has published in the
* Annuairc des Mines de Russie,' a sketch of environs of Pekin,
some extracts from which may interest our readers at the pre-
sent moment. For a century past, Russia has maintained a
convent and school at Pekin, where her interpreters receive their
education in Chinese and Mantchou. Every ten years the mem-
bers of these two establishments arc changed, and fresh monks
and pupils are sent from St. Petersburg. During their stay at
Pekiti, the Russians are free to see all things and visit all places
without awakening the restless jealousy of the government.
Pekin, according to M. Kovenko, is situated in a plain bounded
to the north-west by a series of mountains which the Chinese
divide into northern and western, according to their position with
reference to the city. The northern mountains are a day's
journey from Pekin ; that being no great distance, for the
Chinese nevrr travel more than five and twenty of our miles in
a day. This road in summer is very picturesque, and the
country highly cultivated. The yellow millet is the Chinese
peasant's plant, par ercelttnce. Its grain is the basis of his nutri-
ment ; the stalk is food for his cattle, in the place of hay, which
they have never thought of cutting. The straw of another species
of millet, which attains a height of fifteen feet, is used to make
the fences of gardens, and serves also for fuel. Near these
northern mountains are some springs, having a temperature of
forty-five degrees. The water is conducted by pipes into baths
cut in the calcareous rock, and lined with sheers of lead. Early
in the spring crowds assemble at this spot in search of health or
for the mere pleasures of the promenade. The Imperial family
lias a palace here, and there are several temples in the neigh-
bourhood. In these temples it is that the weary traveller may
seek repose; but the hospitality of the priests of Khe-san and of
Da-o is by no means gratuitous. M. Kovenko asserts that a few
hours' rest will cost about eighteen roubles (between 16s. and
17*.), and upwards of twenty-five roubles are often paid for a
day s. A multitude of fruit-trees grow in the valleys of these
mountains, as well as willows, firs, juniper-trees, and cypresses,
but these do not form forests of any considerable extent. The
western mountains are remarkable for the coal which they
enclose. So abundant is it, that a space of half a league cannot
be traversed without meeting with rich strata. Yet, either
because of this very abundance, or from the inveterate habit
which the Chinese have of leaving all things unperfected, the
art of mining is yet in its infancy amongst them. Machinery to
lighten labour is there unknown. They have not even an idea
of the pumps indispensable to draw off the water. If local cir-
cumstances allow, they cut drainage-galleries; if not, they
abandon the working when the inundation has gained too far
upon them. Their system of ventilation consists in making
openings at certain distances, over which they place wheels turned
by men. But these wheels, though incessantly in motion, intro-
duce very little air into the mines. The mattock, pick-axe, and
hammer are the mining instruments. A furrow is traced with
the pick-axe, the mattock is inserted and driven in witi. ihe
hammer; and in this manner lumps of coal are detached,
weighing from sixty to eighty pounds. Coal is at a moderate
price in the capital. It is burnt in bronie vases, or its heat is
distributed along the wall by means of pipes. These precautions
against cold are very necessary at Pekin, and not the mere con-
sequences of that strange habit which makes the Chinese heat
all their drinks, even their wine. It freezes and snows often,
and on the 31st of December, 1820, M. Timkowski found the
thermometer there down to twelve degrees below xero. —
Jthenetwn.

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I J.tNl'AUY 1 1,

[HaMeM House]

PROGRESSES OF QUEEN ELIZABETH.

FROM HATFIELD PREVIOUS TO HKR CORONATION.

Among the many alterations which increased facility
of intercommunication has produced, is one that may
not perhaps at first occur to us — this is the lessening
of processional pomp and magnificence. When the
removal of a nobleman's or a gentleman's family
from one of his residences to another involved the
transport also of much of his household stuff, and
when neither roads nor vehicles admitted of rapid
movement, such removals were unfrequent, the train
naturally assumed the processional form, the rarity
gave it the character of a show, and the occasion, the
farewell or the welcoming of the local chief, gave it
that of a holiday. What arose from necessity became
consecrated by custom, and ultimately elevated by art
into a gorgeous though sometimes rude display of pomp.
The rank and dignity of the individual were considered
to be involved in the number and magnificence of his
attendant retinue, and his popularity or political in-
fluence was indicated by the reception he met with in
the places through which he passed. On the embassy
of Becket to France in 1158, he was attended by two
hundred knights, besides barons and nobles, a host of
domestics, eight covered waggons, each guarded by
armed men and a fierce dog, containing his kitchen
and bedchamber furniture, that of his chapel, his plate,
his wardrobe, in which he had twenty-four changes of
apparel, his hawks, hounds, huntsmen, &c, with
twelve sumpter horses, each ridden by a monkey ; and
two hundred and fifty boys, who preceded the train on
entering a town, singing national songs. In a later
reign, the magnificence of Wolsey was not less re-
markable, though the style was somewhat altered. At
the present time, when the queen and court travel by

railroad at the rate of forty miles an hour, or in post-
chariots at fifteen — when .judges go their circuits by
similar conveyances, nothing of the old custom re-
mains, to us, except the heavy pomp of funereal pro-
cessions, and the scarcely less heavy and un poetical
exhibition offered to the citizens of London on Lord
Mayor's day, or, occasionally, the less pompous but
more impressive ceremony of the opening of parlia-
ment by the sovereign in person.

During a period when it was a work of great labour,
requiring much time, and occasioning enormous ex-
pense for subjects, particularly those from the remoter
districts, to visit the court and look upon their sove-
reign, it became a practice with all such nionarchs as
thought they deserved or wished to acquire popularity,
to make Progresses through the different parts of
their territories. As the necessities for the long and
cumbrous trains became less imperative, efforts were
made to give these exhibitions more of an ornamental
and intellectual character, though frequently of a
formal and pedantic description, on the part alike of
visitors and visited. It was during the reigns of
Queen Elizabeth and King James I. that these enter-
tainments reached their highest elevation; and from
that of the last we may date their extinction : so vain
are the efforts of art to prolong the existence of any
state of manners not in unison with the more material
conveniences and improvements of the time. As a
record, however, of a state of manners which can never
return, and affording also occasion of exhibiting speci-
mens of the current literature, we purpose giving a
few papers upon the Progresses of Queen Elizabeth,
abundant materials for which are found in the three
bulky quartos under that title, published by the late
John Nichols, Esq., though we shall not confine our
selves to this single authority.

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The princess Elizabeth, as is generally known, passed
the last part of the reign of Queen Mary in a sort of
half confinement in the then royal palace of Hatfield,
now the seat of the Marquis of Salisbury, to whose
good taste the public are indebted for the preservation
of the building in all its substantial features as it then
existed. It was here that, on the 18th of November,
1558 (Queen Mary having died early in the morning
of the 17th), several lords of the Privy Council waited
on her to announce her accession to the throne. She
remained here till the 23rd, when she began her first
Progress, which we may say only terminated with her
Coronation.

» i At her departure she was attended by more than a
thousand persons. At Highgate she was met by the
bishops, and at the foot of Highgate Hill by the lord
mayor and corporation of London, by whom she was
accompanied to the Charter-House, then the residence
of Lord North. On the 28th she proceeded to the
Tower. "All the streets she was to pass, even to the
Tower, were new gravelled ; and so she rid through
Barbican and Cripplegate, and along London Wall
unto Bishopsgate, and thence up to Leadenhall, and
so through Grasschurch Street and Fanchurcli Street,
turning down Mark Lane into Tower Street, and so to
the Tower." How pleasantly these "old familiar "
names fall upon the ear, speaking of so little change,
that they are yet the perfect direction of the road from
the Charter-House to the Tower ! " Before her rode
many gentlemen, knights, and nobles : after them came
the trumpeters blowing ; then all the heralds in array ;
my lord mayor, holding the queen's sceptre, riding
with garter ; my lord of Pembroke bare the queen's
sword. Then came her grace on horseback, apparelled
in purple velvet, with a scarf about her neck, the ser-
jeants-of-arms being about her person. Next after
her rode Sir Robert Dudley (afterwards Earl of Leices-
ter), master of her horse ; and so the guard with hal-
berds. There was great shooting of guns ; the like
was never heard before. In certain places stood chil-
dren, who made speeches to her as she passed, and in
other plates was singing and playing with regals."
At the Tower she remained till Dec. 5, on which day
she went by water to Somerset Place, " trumpets sound-
ing, much melody accompanying, and universal ex-
pressions of joy among the people." The ceremonies
attendant on the funeral of Mary occupied a few days,
and on the 23rd Elizabeth left Somerset House for her
palace at Westminster, where she kept her Christmas.
On Thursday, Jan. 12, 1558-9, she left Westminster, to
go by water to the Tower, " the lord mayor and alder-
men in their barge, and all the citizens, with their
barges decked ana trimmed with targets and banners
of their mysteries, accordingly attending on her grace.
The batchelor's barge of the lord mayor's company, to
wit, the Mercers', had their barge with a foist trimmed
with three tops, and artillery aboard, gallantly appointed
to wait upon them, shooting off lustily as they wont,
with great and pleasant melody of instruments, which
played in most sweet and heavenly manner. Her
grace shot the bridge about two of the clock in the
afternoon, at the still of the ebb, the lord mayor and
the rest following her barge, attending the same till
her Majesty took land at the Privy Stairs of the Tower
Wharf."

On the 14th commenced the grand display of her
progress by land from the Tower to Westminster, pre-
vious to her coronation. A detailed description of
this * passage r exists in a curious tract, entitled ' The
Passage of our most dread Sovereign Lady Queen
Elizabeth through the City of London to Westminster
the day before her Coronation/ anno 1558-9, published
on the 23rd of the same month. In this it is stated
that about two o'clock of the afternoon she " marched

from the Tower to pass through the city of London to-
wards Westminster, richly furnished and most honour-
ably accompanied, as well with gentlemen, barons, and
other the nobility of the realm, as also with a notable
train of goodly and beautiful ladies, richly appointed ;
and entering the city, was of the people received mar-
vellous entirely, as appeared by trie assembly, prayers,
wishes, welcomings, cries, tender words, and all other
signs, which argue a wonderful earnest love of most
obedient subjects towards their sovereign ; arid on the
other side her grace, by holding up her hands and
merry countenance to such as stood far off, and most
tender and gentle language to those that stood near to
her grace, did declare herself no less thankfully to
receive her people's good will than they lovingly
offered it unto her. To all that wished her grace well
she gave hearty thanks, and to such as asked God to
save her grace, she said again God save them all, and
she thanked them with all her heart ; so that on either
side there was nothing but gladness, nothing but
prayer, nothing but comfort. The Queen's majesty
rejoiced marvellously to see that so exceedingly showed
towards her grace which all good princes have ever
desired ; I mean, so earnest love of subjects, so evi-
dently declared even to her grace's own person, being
carried in the midst of them. The people again were
wonderfully ravished with the loving answers and
gestures of their princess, like to which they had before
tried at her first coming to the Tower from Hatfield.
This her grace's loving behaviour preconceived in the
people's heads, upon these considerations, was then
thoroughly confirmed, and indeed implanted a wonder-
ful hope in them touching her worthy government in
the rest of her reign. For in all her passage she did
not only show her most gracious love toward the
people in general, but also privately, if the baser per-
sonages had offered her grace any flowers or such like
as a signification of their good will, or moved to her
any suit, she most gently, to the common rejoicing of
all lookers on and private comfort of the party, staid
her chariot and heard their requests.

*****

" Near unto Fanchurch was erected a scaffold richly
furnished, whereon stood a noise of instruments,* and
a child in costly apparel, which was appointed to wel-
come the Queen's majesty in the whole city's behalf.
Apainst which place, when her grace came, of her own
will she commanded the chariot to be stopped, and
that the noise might be appeased until the cnild had
uttered his welcoming oration, which he spoke in Eng-
lish metre, as here followeth : —

" Oh! peerless sovereign Queen, behold what this thy town
Hath thee presented with, at thy first entrance here ;
Behold with now rich hope she leadeth thee to thy crown,
Behold with what two gifts she comforteth thy cheer !

The first is blessings' tongues, which many a welcome say,
Which pray thou inayst do well, which praise thee to the si y ;

Which wish to thee long life, which bless this happy day.
Which to thy kingdom heaps all that in tongues can lie.

The second is true hearts, which love thee from their roots, j
Whose suit is triumph now, and ruleth all the game : '

Whose faithfulness have won, and all untruth driven out ;
Which skip for joy when as they hear thy happy naruo.

Welcome therefore, O Queen, as much as heart can think,
Welcome again, O Queen, as much as tongue can tell ;

Welcome to joyous tongues, and hearts that will not shrink :
God thee preserve, we pray, and wish thee ever well.

u At which words of the last line the whole people
gave a great shout, wishing with one assent, as the
child had said. And the Queen's majesty thanked most
heartily both the city for this her gentle receiving at
the first, and also the people for confirming the same.

* A MOM0 is a band- a noiee of music, a band of music.

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[January 14,

Here was noted in the Queen's countenance, during
the time the child spake, besides a perpetual attentive-
ncss in her face, a marvellous change in look, as the
child's words touched either her person or the people's
tongues or hearts. So that she, with rejoicing visage,
did evidently declare that the words took no less place
in her mind, than they were most heartily pronounced
hy the child, as from all the hearts of her most hearty
citizens."

As well as being spoken, copies of all the addresses
were stuck up in convenient places, in Latin as well
as English. In Gracechurcn Street, opposite the
44 sign of the Eagle," a " gorgeous and sumptuous ark "
was erected across the street, elevated in three stages
above the three arches, which gave a passage to the
procession and its spectators. In the lowest stage,
upon one throne sat richly dressed representatives of
Henry VII. and Elizabeth, the one enclosed in a red
rose, the other in a white rose, and both royally
crowned, with their hands joined. From the two roses
sprang two branches uniting into one toward the
second stage, and in this was placed a figure of Henry
VIII., crowned, and seated by the side of Queen Anne
Boleyn. From their seat ascended one branch to the
highest stage, in which was a figure of Elizabeth her-
self. All the figures were represented by children,
and in front was a standing for one, whose task it was
to declare in verse the " whole meaning of the said
pageant," the blessings of unity and the cessation of
civil wars, to her majesty, with which she declared her-
self well pleased.

" Ere the Queen's majesty came within hearing of
this pageant, she sent certain [persons], as also at all
the other pageants, to require the people to be silent,
for her Majesty was disposed to hear all that should be
said unto her." A curious specimen of the order-
liness of the populace, if the desire was complied
with. On advancing through CornhiU, the Conduit
" was curiously trimmed against that time with rich
banners adorned, and a noise of loud instruments
on the top thereof." The second pageant, at the
" nether end of Cornhill," had for its title " The
Seat of Worthy Governance;" children here again
representing the characters of the Queen with four
allegorical attendants, " Pure Religion, Love of Sub-
jects, Wisdom, and Justice; which did tread their
contrary vices under their feet; that is, to wit. Pure
Religion did tread upon Superstition and Ignorance ;
Love of Subjects did tread upon Rebellion and Inso-
lence ; Wisdom did tread upon Folly and Vain Glory ;
J ustice did tread upon Adulation and Bribery." Each
was distinctively marked, not only by " their names set
in plain and perfect writing on tneir breasts," but by
their apparel ; and one child was appointed to deliver
the versified rather than poetical explanation. The
Queen on all these occasions stayed her chariot, most
attentively listened to the addresses, and thanked the
city in appropriate terms for their pains.

" The Great Conduit in Cheap was also ornamented ;
and against Soper's Lane was another pageant of eight
children representing the Eight Beatitudes, who also
delivered an address; but the most marked one was
that at the Little Conduit in Cheap, where the accept-
ance by the Queen of the Bible, and the promise often-
times to read it, must have been highly satisfactory to
the spectators in the then state of religious feeling in
the city.

" Soon after that her grace passed the Cross she had
espied the pageant erected at the Little Conduit in
Cheap, and incontinent required to know what it might
signify. And it was told her grace that there was
placed Time. 'Time!' quoth she, 'and Time hath
brought me hither.' And so forth the whole matter
was opened to her grace, as hereafter shall be declared

in the description of the pageant. But in the opening,
when her grace understood that the Bible in English
should be delivered unto her by Truth, which was
therein represented by a child, she thanked the City
for that gift, and said that she would oftentimes read
over that book, commanding Sir John Parrat, one of
the knights which held up her canopy, to go before
and to receive the book. But learning that it should
be delivered unto her grace down by a silken lace,
she caused him to stay, and so passed forward till she
came against the aldermen in the high end of Cheap
tofore the Little Conduit, where the companies of the
City ended which began at Fanchurch, and stood
along the streets, one by another, enclosed with rails
hanged with cloth, and themselves well apparelled
with many rich furs, and their livery-hoods upon their
shoulders, in comely and seemly manner, having be-
fore them sundry persons well apparelled in silks and
chains of gold, as whifHcrs and guarders of the said
companies, besides a number of rich hangings, as well
of tapestry, arras, cloths of gold, silver, velvet, damask,
satin, and other silks plentifully hanged all the way as
the Queen's highness passed from the Tower through
the City. Out at the windows and the penthouses of
every house did hang a number of rich and costly ban-
ners and streamers till her grace came to the upper
end of Cheap. And there, by appointment, the Right
Worshipful Master Ranulph Cnolmely, Recorder of
the City, presented to the Queen's majesty a purse of
crimson satin, richly wrought with gold, wherein the
City gave unto the Queen's majesty a thousand marks
in gold, as Master Recorder did declare briefly unto
the Queen's majesty. . . . The Queen's majesty,
with both her hands, took the purse, and answered him

again marvellous pithily.

* * ^ * * * *

" And in the same pageant was advanced two hills, or
mountains, of convenient height. The one of them,
being on the north side of the same pageant, was made
cragged, barren, and stony ; in the which was erected
one tree artificially made, all withered and dead, with
branches accordingly. And under the same tree, at
the foot thereof, sate one in homely and rude apparel,
crookedly, and in a mourning maimer, having over
his head, in a table, written in Latin and English, his
name, which was ' Ruinosa Respublica' — ' A decayed
Commonweal.' And upon the same withered tree
were fixed certain tables, wherein were written proper
sentences expressing the causes of the decay of * Com-
monweal.' The other hill, on the south side, was made
fair, fresh, green, and beautiful, — the ground thereof
full of flowers and beauty ; and on the same was
erected also one tree very fresh and fair, and under the
which stood upright one fresh personage, well ap-
parelled and appointed, whose name also was written
both in English and Latin, which was 'Respublica
bene instituta ' — ' A flourishing Commonweal. And
upon the same trees also were fixed certain tables,
containing sentences which expressed the causes of a
flourishing commonweal. In the middle, between the
said hills, was made artificially one hollow place or
cave, with door and lock enclosed ; out of which, &
little before the Queen's highness coming thither, is-
sued one personage whose name was Time, apparelled
like an old man," with a scythe in his hand, having
wings artificially made, leading a personage of lesser
stature than himself, which was finely and well ap-
parelled, all clad in white silk ; and directly over her
nead was set her name and title, in Latin and English,
'Teraporis filia' — 'The daughter of Time.' Which
two so appointed went forward toward the south side
of the pageant. And on her breast was written her
proper name, which was * Veritas' — 'Truth,' who held
a book in her hand, upon the which was written ' Ver-

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

bum Veritatis'— the ' Word of Truth.' And out of the
south side of the pageant was cast a standing for a
child, which should interpret the said pageant,'* which
was accordingly done in English and Latin.

The Queen, on receiving the book, kissed it, and
laid it to her breast. At St. Paul's the scholars wel-
comed her with a Latin oration in prose, and some
Latin verses, to which she listened attentively, and
irraciously received the written copies. At Ludgate
the gate' was decorated and a "noise of instruments"
placed. At the conduit in Fleet Street was erected
the fifth and last pageant, in which a "seemly and
meet personage" represented "Deborah the judge
and restorer ot Israel, with six other personages, two
denoting the nobility, two the clergy, and two the com-
monalty ; while a child again addressed her in verses
allusive to the pageant. At St. Dunstan's the " chil-
dren of the hospital*" were drawn up, and one ad-
dressed her in a Latin oration. u From thence her
grace came to Temple Bar, which was dressed finely
with the two images of Gotmagot the Albion and
Corineus the Briton, two giants big in stature, fur-
nished accordingly ; which held in their hands, even
above the gate, a tablet, wherein was written, in Latin
verses, the effect of all the pageants, which the City
before had erected." In a smaller tablet was the same
in English as follows . —

** Behold here in one view thou mayst see all that plain,
O Princess, to this thy people the only stay :
What each where thou hast seen in this wide town, again
This one arch whatsoever the rest contained doth say.

The first arch as true heir unto thy father dear,

Did set thee in the throne where thy grandfather sat ;
The second did confirm thy seat as Princess here,

Virtues now bearing sway, and Vices beat down flat ;
The third, if that thou would'st go on as thou began,

Declared thee to be blessed on every side ;
The fourth did open Truth, and also taught thee when

The Comraouweal stood well, and wheu it did thence slide j

The fifth as Deborah declared thee to be sent

From Heaven, a long comfort to us thy subjects all :
Therefore go on, O Queen, on whom our hope is bent,
And take with thee this wish of thy town as finall.
Live long, and as long reign, adorning thy countrie
With Virtues, and maintain thy people's hope of thee ;
For thus, thus Heaven is won; thus must you pierce the sky :
This is by Virtue wrougnt, all other must needs die."

And so with a farewell address from a child on the
south side "her grace departed forth through Temple
Bar towards Westminster," with shouting and crying
of the people, and the firing of the Tower ordnance.

INSURANCE OF SHIPPING.—" LLOYDS LIST."
Many a newspaper reader has probably marvelled as
to the nature and meaning of" Lloyd's Coffee-house."
He may have seen, that in all lists or catalogues of
shipping, entering or leaving foreign ports and har-
bours, Lloyd's agents or correspondents appear to
furnish the information ; and not unfrequently a letter
appears from the Admiralty, giving information respect-
ing lighthouses, beacons, and other maud's pertaining
to marine affairs, addressed to the Secretary at Lloyd's.
Who is this Lloyd ? it may be asked, and what kind
of a Coffee-house does he keep? And what has his
CofFee-house to do with shipping affaire ? And why
does Lloyd employ so many agents and correspondents,
and what advantage does he reap by so doing? The
apparent incongruity of the matter may be cleared
up at once by saying, that there is a Society or Com-
mittee of mercantile men, meeting occasionally for a
defined object, who originally held their meetings in a
* Christ Church.

subscription-room attached to a Coffee-house, at or
near the Royal Exchange. " Lloyd's Coffee-house "
hence became generally known in connection with the
objects of that Committee ; and in accordance with the
brevity of commercial language, the simple word
"Lloyd's" came to imply the Committee itself, and
the general object for which it was formed ; and the
name has adhered to it ever since, though neither
Lloyd nor the Coffee-house has had anything to do in
the matter for some years.

The subscribers to Lloyd's arc principally a number
of persons known by the appellation of " Underwriters,"
who insure shipping on the same principle as a Fire-
office insures buildings. But it is a remarkable fea-
ture, that these underwriters effect insurances in-
dividually, instead of combining their funds into a
joint-stock for the purpose. The rooms which they
engage (once at the Coffee-house over the Royal Ex-
change, from whence the system is named, and now,
during the rebuilding of the Exchange, at the South
Sea-house) serve as a kind of bazaar or general office,
convenient for transacting business between the in-
surers and the insured.

To understand the origin of this system, we must
look back to the last century. The present " Lloyd's
Committee" arose out of the amalgamation of two
societies, one of which had existed from 1760 to 1834 ;
and the other from 1798 to 1834 ; the former a society
of underwriters, and the latter a society of shipowners.
The shipowners' society took cognizance of all matters
relating to the general interests of shipowners ; while
the underwriters' society was established for the pur-
pose of preparing and publishing annually a Register
of British merchant shipping, in which the age, bur-
den, limit, quality, and condition of vessels were so
accurately entered, as in a great measure to guide the
merchant, the shipowner, and the underwriter in their
proceedings. About eight or nine years ago, circum-
stances occurred which led to a change in the system,
by bringing merchants, shipowners, and underwriters
all into one society, for the general benefit of all.
Thus arose the present " Lloyd's " association, of which
we will first describe the general constitution, and then
the mode of working.

Lloyd's Register Society is composed of subscribers,
of whom twenty-four are chosen to form a managing
committee, viz. eight merchants, eight shipowners, and
eight underwriters. Two of each class go out of office
annually, and are replaced by others ; and the election
is so managed as to give shipowners and underwriters
equal power in the Society. This Committee, as in
analogous cases, has power to appoint the various ser-
vants of the Society, and to manage the general affairs.
The object of the society is based on the principle of
assigning to merchant-ships, wheresoever built, or
belonging to any one who may choose to co-operate
with the society, a character that shall indicate as
nearly as possible their real and intrinsic quality. The
advantages are threefold. First, a merchant who
freights a vessel with goods to a foreign country can
form some opinion of the soundness of the vessel, if it oc-
cupies a place in Lloyd's Register ; secondly, a person
who is about to buy a ship, or a share in a ship, has
something besides his own penetration to depend upon,
when the ship is classed in the Register ; and thirdly,
an underwriter who insures a ship before it sets out on
a voyage, can form a judgment as to the premium
which he must charge, from the place which the ship
occupies on the Register. The preparation of this
Register thus becomes a matter of paramount impor-
tance, and engages the closest attention of the Com-
mittee. At one time the classification was effected on
a very imperfect principle. Instead of classing the
ships according to the actual state and condition ascer-

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[January 14,

tained by a careful surveyor, the character of a ship was
stamped wholly by her age and the place where she was
built, without any regard to the manner in which she
was constructed, the wear or damage she might have
sustained, or the repairs she might from time to time
have received. This had a lamentable influence on
the mode of constructing shipping; for, to use the
words of a Parliamentary Committee on the subject —
'* All new vessels, however slightly constructed, were
entitled to be registered in the first class for a given
number of years, varying from six to twelve, after
which the strongest ships were placed on a level with
the weakest, being excluded from the first class when
the prescribed period of years had pxpired." Now,
however, the classification is effected according to the
actual merits of the ship. Surveyors are appointed by
the committee at all the principal ports in the king-
dom, to examine in the most scrupulous manner every
ship which is to be placed on the Register. It is op-
tional with a ship-owner whether he will or will not
have his ship entered in this Register ; but if he does,
the surveyor examines it, and charges a certain fee for
the registration. The surveyor at any particular port
transmits periodically to London an account ot all
ships lost, broken up, or otherwise destroyed, belong-
ing to his district ; and also of all vessels building,
the Btate of their progress, the changes which may
have occurred in the ownership, and indeed every fact
calculated to elucidate the actual state of the shipping at
any given period. All the surveyors have been either
practical nautical men or practical shipwrights, who
nave given up all other occupations to attend to the
interests of Lloyd's Society.

It was stated in 1830 that out of twelve thousand
British merchant-vessels above fifty tons burthen,
seven thousand were entered in Lloyd's Register. All
these entries were made in a book which is reprinted
once a year. The fees for examining and classify-
ing a ship vary from half a guinea to three guineas.
When a surveyor has examined a new ship, he trans-
mits to London full particulars of the examination,
and mentions the class in which he thinks the ship
ought to be placed in the Register. The Committee,
if they think the reasons are good, assent to that recom-
mendation ; but if their inference from facts be different
from his, they determine the class in which to place the
ship. If a shipowner is so fortunate as to have his ship
classed •' A. 1, he seldom fails to append that character
to the name of the ship in all his advertisements, as an
honourable testimony to the character of the vessel.

Ships are seldom or never insured unless they are
registered in Lloyds list, for the underwriters and
insurance societies have then no adequate means of
knowing the character of the vessel. Nor can a ship-
owner sell a vessel so readily if it be not registered in
tne same list. Merchants, shipowners, and under-
writers all feel confidence in this register, and hence its
great importance.

There is a committee whose object is to superintend
the preparation of the register above alluded to ; and
also another for the management of the underwriters'
proceedings generally. Thus, agents are appointed in
all the principal ports of the world, who transmit regu-
larly accounts of the departures from and arrivals at
their ports, as well as of losses and other casualties ;
and, in general, all such information as may be sup-
posed of importance in guiding the judgments of the
underwriters. There is an open subscription-room at
" Lloyd's," in which all these items of information are
entered in books, open to the perusal of the subscribers.
It is from the register of shipping that the underwriter
forms an opinion of the character of the vessels which
he may insure ; and from the daily list of occurrences
at sea he learns the fate of these several vessels.

Some of the merchants and shipowners manage their
own insurance transactions, that is, deal immediately
with the underwriters ; but there are others who employ
insurance-brokers, paying a small per-centage fortneir
services. The sum paid for insuring a given vessel at
a given time depends on a large number of circum-
stances, such as tne age of the vessel, its size and con-
dition, the character of its captain or master for skill
and steadiness, the nature of the cargo, the length of
the voyage on which the vessel is destined, and the
average amount of danger on that route. Nothing
but the greatest experience can determine the proba-
bility of loss under these combined circumstances ;
but the effect of competition is to cause all these points
to be thoroughly investigated.

Marine insurance is effected on three different sys-
tems ; by individuals, by clubs, and by companies.
The individual insurers are the underwriters ot whom
we have spoken, each of whom speculates on his own
account. The clubs are associations of shipowners,
who agree to divide among themselves the losses sus-
tained in respect of any one of their ships. They enter
their ships according to the estimatea value, satis-
factorily to all the members of the club ; and in the
event of any loss, the amount is collected individually
from all the members, each paying a prescribed quota.
With respect to companies, none sucn were permitted
by law to effect marine insurances until 1824, except
two chartered companies ; but since that period two
others have been added. Mr. M'Culloch stated, in the
second edition of his Dictionary, that about one-fifth
of the marine insurance transactions is in the hands of
the London companies, and four-fifths in the hands of
underwriters ana of country insurers.

In the policy of a marine insurance the general
nature of tne proposed voyage is set forth ; and the in-
surance itself becomes void if the ship is lost or
damaged under certain circumstances. Thus, acts of our
own government, breaches of the revenue laws, breaches
of the law of nations, deviations of route, protraction of
the voyage, — all are, under certain restrictions, deemed
to exonerate the underwriter or company from bearing
the losses of a shipowner. The object in view is essen-
tially to secure the shipowner from loss arising out of
the " perils of the sea."

77* Arein, — Tlie Jamou is sometimes in the winter and spring
a dangerous passage, as well on account of the depth of the snow,
as in being subject to avalanches, and to the peculiar tourmente,
as the mountaineers expressively term the snowy winds or windy
snows, called the arei>i y a word which signifies in the patois of
the country a sandy snow, the particles thereof being dry and
brittle. These artins are formed by one layer of snow falling
upon another, already frozen and hard, and a strong wind forcing
its way between the two, slicing off, if I may be allowed so
homely an expression, the latest fallen and uppermost, and driv-
ing it down the inclined and icy plain on which it has sought it*
short repose, with a fury that sweeps before it trees, chalets, herds,
human beings, all in one bewildering, blinding hurricane, con-
demning the unfortunate passenger to certain death. In 1707
one of these areins swept away, between the Jaiuuu and the vil-
lage of AlliSres in Fribourg, on which we were now looking
down in all the serenity of a summer's day, a number of large
firs and several houses, which it carried to the verge of the pre-
cipices washed by the Hongrin in the Gruyeres, sawing the
cabaret of Allieres literally in two, and carrying away the upper
story, to the amazement of the inmates, who were thus ejected
from the attics to the ground-floor without a moment's notioe to
quit. When any accident fatal to life occurs on the Jaman, it
is forbidden to remove the body until the arrival of a magistrate,
excepting the mother be present, in which case her sanction is
deemed sufficient. The presence of the father is not considered
equal authority. There is something very touching in this
deference to maternal feeling. — Mrs. Strutt's Domestic Residence
in Switzerland.

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[Queenstown.— From a Dravring by Mrs. Simcoe, taken during the Revolutionary War.]

THE NIAGARA DISTRICT, WESTERN
CANADA.— No. I

Queenstown is situated on the Niagara River, or
more properly Strait, about seven miles above the
Falls, and six from the shores of Lake Ontario. There is
a good and pleasant road parallel to the river from Fort
Erie on the lake of the same name, through Queens-
town, to Newark on Lake Ontario. The length of the
Niagara Strait is thirty-five miles : by this outlet the
waters of Lake Erie flow into Ontario, passing in
their course over the tremendous cataract. A suc-
cession of severe actions between the Americans and
the British took place in 1812, 1813, and 1814, on
the banks of the Niagara ; and one of the most des-
perate occurred within two miles of the Fails. The
circumstances attending this contest were peculiarly
calculated to show the hateful effects of war, as they
aroused all those bad passions which seem tenfold
more bitter in a border-warfare, when the ties of neigh-
bourhood and kindred are disregarded, and their obli-
gations violated. The militia on both sides being
called out, neighbours were righting against each other
— a husband against the father of his wife, and against
her brothers. Every town on the frontier was de-
stroyed, either by one or other of the belligerent par-
ties. In October, 1812, the American and British
forces encountered each other atQueenstown, which was
the scene of a sanguiaary contest. The spot where
the English general, Sir Isaac Brock, fell on this occa-
sion 13 marked by a monument erected to his memory.
It is one hundred and twenty-six feet high, and stands
two hundred and seventy feet above the level of the
Niagara stream, which runs just below it, so that it
commands a noble view, thus described by Miss Mar-
tineau, in her * Retrospect of Western Travel :' — " To
the left a prodigious sweep of forest terminates in
blue Canadian hills. On trie right is the American
shore. There stands the village of Lewiston (oppo-
site Queenstown), with its winding descent to the
ferry. At our feet lay Queenstown, its sordidness
being lost in distance, and its long street presenting
the appearance of an English village. The green

no 693.

river rushes between its lofty wooded banks, which
suddenly widen at Queenstown, causing the waters
to spread and relax their speed, while making their
way with three or four bends to the lake. We saw
the white church of Niagara, rising above the woods
some miles off; and beyond, the vast lake, its waters
groy on the horizon. There was life in this mag-
nificent scene. The ferry-boat was buffeted by the
waves ; groups were in waiting on either side the
ferry; and teams were in the fields." The portress
was an active little Irishwoman, delighted to meet
any one from the " old country ;" and yet some short
time before some travellers (English) had thrown down
a telescope belonging to her from the top of the monu-
ment, and when she asked for payment received only
abuse ! *

About half-way between the Falls and Queenstown
there is a remarkable whirlpool, of which little notice
is taken in the note-books of travellers, whose atten-
tion is too much occupied by the grandeur of the Falls.
The whirlpool is most probably caused by extensive
cavernous hollows in the rocky bed of the river in
which the waters are partially engulfed. Millions of
tons of water are precipitated over the Falls every hour,
and yet here the Niagara is pent up within a narrow
channel not exceeding one hundred yards in width.
Mr. Buckingham mentions, in his reeent work on the
United States of America, that " so completely is the
current carried round in the circular whirlings that
water assumes in any vortex having a large outlet at
its base, that trees, beams, and branches of wood are
carried round and round for hours in succession in its
centre, sometimes descending out of sight, and re-ap-
pearing again near the same place broken into frag-
ments. It ia compared by those who have seen both
to the celebrated Maelstrom of Norway, but is on a
smaller scale." In Cotton's ' Tour of the Lakes' there
is a harrowing account of a boat having by accident
come within range of the whirlpool, and an unfor-
tunate person being hurried round the vortex many
times before the final catastrophe, while his friends on
shore could render him no assistance. In the ' Penny
Magazine,' No. 147, an account will be found of a

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[January 21,

similar accident which ended more fortunately. The
Strait is so narrow at this point, that a stone has been
thrown across from the American to the Canadian side,
and a suspension-bridge has been projected as a means
of communication between them. The rocky cliff on
either side is aboujt two hundred and fifty feet hich,
and the width less than that over which the bridges at
Menai and Clifton are suspended. As it would over-
hang the whirlpool, it is thought that the cost would
be reimbursed by the payments of persons visiting the
spot. There is a railway from Lcwiston to Buffalo.

Immediately after passing the elevated plateau of
Queenstown Heights, tne land shelves abruptly towards
the shores of Lake Ontario, distant five or six miles,
in a manner which at once arrests the attention of the
geologist. The table-land, three hundred feet high, is
broken by a precipice parallel to the lake. There is
little doubt that this was once the boundary of its
southern shore. Colonel Whittlesey, a scientific geo-
logist and surveyor, who was officially appointed to
examine this region, gives the following grounds for
this supposition, which also account for the existence
of the Falls. The table-land, it is to be observed, on
both sides of the Niagara Strait, namely, at Queens-
town and Lewiston, is level with Lake Erie. The line
where it is abruptly broken is traceable for more than
a hundred miles parallel with Lake Ontario, east of the
Niagara, and Colonel Whittlesey thinks still farther,
to the head of the St. Lawrence, at the Thousand Isles,
or even to the Heights of Abraham at Quebec, and the
Falls of Montmorency. " At this latter spot, and so
on up the Thousand Isles above, some mighty rupture
of the rocky beds beneath seems to have occurred by
some convulsion of nature, and thus furnished a pass-
age or drain for the Upper Lakes into the Atlantic.
The time when this convulsion occurred must have
been simultaneous with the production of the Falls of
Niagara, which until then were a part of the shores
of the two lakes, which here silently commingled their
waters, until the sudden rupture and draining below
threw the momentum of the mighty flood from the
now table-land, and then lake-bed, at Queenstown, down
the high precipice or naked shore, and thus excavated
for itself the deep channel of Niagara river from
this point to the diminished basin of Ontario. From
Queenstown, the Falls, in course of time, by gradually,
as they now hourly do, breaking oft' the shelving cal-
careous rock, worked their way naturally up to their
present position, seven miles above, and will ultimately
penetrate into Lake Erie ; when another draining
will take place, of Erie, Huron, and Michigan/ both
which latter are also doubtless diminished basins, up
to the Sault St. Mary, or Low Falls, which divides
these Lower Lakes from the great inland sea of Lake
Superior. When that event occurs, another Niagara
will in the same way be formed at this passage into
Lake Superior. And so the mighty work will proceed,
until our lakes, which none of them have great rivers
of their own to supply the present constant draining
of the St. Lawrence, and by evaporation, will shrink to
minor pools, leaving, ultimately, their rich beds bare,
to become the seats of civilization and of a vast popu-
lation." Such are the speculations which a view of the
neighbourhood of Queenstown suggests to the geologist
and philosopher.

At the embouchure of the Niagara into Lake On-
tario its breadth is about a quarter of a mile. The
entrance is defended by two forts, one on the Canadian
and the olher on the American side. When Mrs.
Jameson was in Canada, just before the last troubles,
the British forces in the Canadian fort consisted of
three privates and a corporal, with rusty firelocks and
damaged guns. She mistook the fort for a dilapi-
dated brewery. This lady gives a very charming pic-

ture of the beauties of Ontario : " This beautiful Lake
Ontario!'' she exclaims, — "my lake — for I begin to
be in love with it, and look on it as mine ! It changed
its hues every moment, the shades of purple and green
fleeting over it, now dark, now lustrous, now pale —
like a dolphin dying ; or, to use a more exact though
less poetical comparison, dappled, and varying like the
back of a mackerel, with every now and then a streak
of silver light dividing the shades of green : magnifi-
cent, tumultuous clouds came rolling round the ho-
rizon ; and the little graceful schooners, falling into
every beautiful attitude, and catching every variety of
light and shade, came curtseying into the bay : and
flights of wild geese, and great black loons were skim-
ming, diving, sporting over the bosom of the lake ;
and beautiful little unknown birds, in gorgeous plu-
mage of crimson and black, were fluttering about the
garden : all life and light and beauty Were abroad in
the resurrection of Nature ! " This was written when
the long Canadian winter was just over.

THE FELLING AND TRANSPORT OF THE
PINE AND FIR.

Thk pine and the fir arc among the most useful forest-
trees which the world produces. There is scarcely a
dwelling or a ship to be found in any part of Europe
or America into the building of which one of these
varieties of wood does not enter; and the juices or
resinous products are particularly valuable in the arts
of life. Many nations, too, procure edible substances
from various parts of these trees. All the varieties of
the pine and the fir genera belong to one botanical
order ; but without entering into a description of the
trees themselves, or their relation to botany or agricul-
ture, we may collect many instructive details respect-
ing the geographical distribution of the pine and fir
forests — the mode of felling and bringing to market
— the economical uses of the timber, branches, bark,
&c. — and the mode of obtaining the resinous products.

The forests of Norway and Sweden are among the
most celebrated of the pine and fir kind, the Scotch
pine and the spruce fir being the principal varieties.
Dr. E. D. Clarke says, '* If the reader will cast his
eyes on the map of Sweden, and imagine tlje Gulf of
Bothnia to be surrounded by one continuous unbroken
forest, as ancient as the world, consisting principally
of pine-trees, with a few mingling specimens of the
birch and juniper, he will have a general and tolerably
correct notion of the real appearance of the country."
A common mode of transporting these trees from the
forests where they are cut down, to the banks of streams
or rivers, is to place them on wheel-axles, one vehicle
to each tree, and then to draw them by horses guided
by women. In every case a path or road is taken
which will lead by the shortest route to a river — such
a river, in Sweden, is the Gotha, which enables the
rafts of timber to be floated down to the port of Got-
tenburgh. There are in Norway two rivers thus em-
ployed : one, the Glomm, which terminates at Chris-
tiania ; and the other, the Drammen, which flows into
the sea twenty miles westward of Christian ia.

Nearly all the pine and fir timber grown in Russia,
Prussia, and Poland is floated down the rivers which
flow into the Baltic, generally adjacent to the ports of
Memel, Dantzig, Riga, and St. Petersburg. The name
of the port is often given to the kind of timber which
is floated down to it: thus we hear of * Riga timber'
and * Memel timber.' It is said that the timber
shipped at Memel comes principally from the estates
of Prince Radzivil, in Polish Prussia; it is more
abundant than that shipped at any other of the Baltic
ports; but its quality is inferior to that of Dantzig;
while this latter, again, yields the palm of superiority

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to the timber from Riga. This Jatter-named kind is
largely used for the masts of English and French ves-
sels ; and in reference to it Mr. M'Culloch observes,
" The mast-trade is very extensive. The burghers of
Riga send persons, who are called * mast-brokers,' into
the provinces to mark the trees, which are purchased
standing. They grow mostly in the districts which
border on the Dnieper, and are sent up that river to a
landing-place, whence they are transported thirty versts
(about twenty-three miles) to the Dwina, where, being
formed into rafts of from fifty to one hundred pieces
each, they descend the stream to Riga. The tree which
produces the longest masts is the Scotch pine. The
pieces, which are from eighteen inches to twenty-five
inches in diameter, are called ' masts ;' and those under
these dimensions * spars,* or, in England, * Norway
masts/ because Norway exports no trees more than
eighteen inches in diameter. Great skill is required
in distinguishing those masts which are sound from
those which are in the least degree internally decayed.
They are usually from seventy feet to eighty feet in
length."

Mr. Howison has given a very interesting account of
the train of operations whereby Russian pine and fir
are conveyed to St. Petersburg for shipment. As all
the large timber near the capital has long since been
cut down, the supply is obtained from a distance in
the interior. A Russian proprietor wishing to dispose
of the timber on his property, having completed a bar-
gain with the St. Petersburg merchant, sets his pea-
santry to work in picking out, cutting down, and
dragging the trees from the forests to the lakes and
rivers. This work generally takes place during the
winter months, in order that everything may be ready
for floating the timber to St. Petersburg as soon as
the ice on the rivers and lakes breaks up. As the
ground is generally covered several feet deep with
snow, and the trees judged to be sufficiently large and
sound for the foreign market lie widely apart, the
workmen and others employed in picking tnem out
are compelled to wear snow shoes, to prevent them
from sinking in the snow. When the trees are found,
they are cut down with hatchets, and the head and
branches lopped off. The trunk is then stripped of its
bark, and a circular notch is cut round the narrow end
of it, to facilitate the fixing of the rope by which the
horses are to drag the trunk along ; and a hole is made
at the other end for a handspike, to steer the log over
the many obstacles that lie in its way. Many ot these
tree3 are seventy feet in length, and of proportionate
diameter; and tney are drawn by from five to nine
horses each, yoked in a straight line one- before an-
other, since the intricate narrow paths in the woods
will not permit of their going in any other way. One
man mounts upon the leading horse, and another upon
the middle one, while others support and guide with
handspikes the large and distant end of the tree, to
raise it over the elevations of snow, and make it glide
smoothly along. The conveyance of these large trees,
the long line of horses, and the number of peasants
accompanying them through the forests, present a very
picturesque appearance. In many cases the trees are
brought nearly a thousand miles before they are deli-
vered to the merchant; and they generally remain
under his care another winter, to be shaped and fitted
for exportation in such a manner as to take up as little
room as possible on shipboard ; so that the Russian
timber does not reach the foreign consumer till two
years after it has been cut down. When the trees are
delivered to the merchant, they are carefully examined
to ascertain their soundness, and for this purpose a
hatchet is struck several times against them, the emit-
ted sound affording the means of estimating the sound-
ness of the tree. Those which are defective, and which

are called * braake,' are about one-tenth of the whole
These trees are conveyed by horses, in the manner
described above, only so far as is necessary to bring
them to the margin of some of the lakes or streams
which have water communication with St. Peters-
burg, floating being then the mode of transit adopted.

In the parts of Germany bordering on the Rhine,
the timber is conveyed by the quickest route to tbnt
river, and then floated down in immense rafts, which
have often been described by tourists. The author ot
'An Autumn near the Rhine' says, "A little below An-
dernach the village of Namedy appears on the left
bank under a wooded mountain. The Rhine hen*
forms a little bay, where the pilots are accustomed to
unite together the small rafts of timber floated down
the tributary rivers into the Rhine, and to construct
enormous floats, which are navigated to Dordrecht
(Dort), and there sold. These machines have the ap-
pearance of floating villages, each composed of twelve
or fifteen little* wooden huts, on a large platform of oak
and deal timber: they are frequently eight or nine
hundred feet long, and sixty or seventy in breadth."
This raft is composed of several layers of trees, placed
one on another, and tied together, the raft drawing not
less than six or seven feet of water. Several smaller
rafts are /attached to the large one, besides a string of
boats loaded with anchors and cables, and used for the
purposes of sounding the river and going on shore.
The rowers and workmen sometimes amount to seven
or eight hundred, superintended by pilots ; and over
the whole is a proprietor or manager, whose habitation
is superior to the others. The " domestic economy" of
the raft is very complete. Poultry, pigs, and other
animals are to be found on board, and several butchers
are attached to the suite. A well-supplied boiler is at
work night and day in the kitchen. The dinner-hour
is announced by a basket stuck on a pole, at which
signal the pilot gives the word of command, and the
workmen run from all quarters to receive their ra-
tions. The consumption of provisions during the
voyage from Andernach to Dort is enormous, some-
times amounting to forty or fifty thousand pounds of
bread, eighteen or twenty thousand pounds of fresh
meat, with salt meat, butter, vegetables, and a host of
et ceteras. A very large capital is necessary to under-
take the formation of one ot these rafts.

When we proceed southerly towards Switzerland,
we find' pine and fir forests elevated so much above
the level of the rivers, as to give occasion for no small
exercise of ingenuity in devising the means of trans-
port. A remarkable instance of the plan, now fre-
quently adopted, was afforded by M. Rupp about thirty
years ago, in reference to the means of transporting
the wood from the forests on Mount Pilate to the Lake
of Lucerne. The mechanism has been so often de-
scribed, that a slight notice will suffice here. In the
year 1810 the price of Baltic timber was so high, that
a hope was entertained of bringing into profitable sale
the timber on this Swiss mountain, hitherto untouched
on account of the difficulty of conveyance. M. Rupp
conceived the idea of making an inclined plane whith
should extend the whole distance from the top of the
mountain to the Lake of Lucerne, about eight miles.
This inclined plane consisted of a trough, formed of
twenty-five thousand pine-trees, six feet broad, and
from three to six feet deep. To preserve a regular
slope, it had to be conducted over the summits of
rocks, along their sides, through tunnels, and over
deep gorges, where it was sustained by scaffolding.
The trough was kept constantly moist, and the trees
descended along it into the lake with extraordinary
rapidity. The larger pine-trunks, about a hundred
feet in length, descended through the whole distance
of eight miles in six minutes : a rapidity which pro-

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[Januar\ 21,

duced an effect otherwise almost inconceivable to the
view of a bystander. When the trunks arrived at the
lake, they were floated down the Rh6ne to the sea.
As the war, which occasioned the high price of Baltic
timber, led to the construction of the Slide of Alpnach
(as the contrivance was called), so did the return of
peace restore the timber-trade to its old channel ; and
the Swiss project is understood not to have succeeded
as a commercial speculation.

In many of the Alpine districts between Austria
and Italy the difficulty of transporting timber to the
level of the rivers has led to the construction of slides
or troughs somewhat similar to that of Alpnach. In
all such cases the slides are formed of several fir-trees
placed side by side, and smoothed by being stripped of
their bark : they are always made in such a dirfction
as to maintain a pretty uniform slope. The slides are
chiefly made use of in winter, at wnich time they are
rendered more slippery by being wetted with water,
which freezes immediately. A wood-cut and descrip-
tion of one of these Tyrolean districts have been given
in No. 532.

In Scotland, one of the principal pine-forests is said

to be that of Rothiemurchus, which spreads over the
glens and valleys of the Grampian Hills. The timber
from this forest is generally floated down the river
Spey ; and when, from a long season of drought, or
any other cause, there is any difficulty in getting it
down to the river, the workmen collect the trees into
a suitable dell, and having built up a temporary dam.
they wait the coming of a flood, which in a country of
such varied Burface is no rare occurrence. As soon as
the temporary dam is full of water, they break down
the boundary, and the liberated waters, bursting from
their confinement, carry the trees with them" impe-
tuously down the Spey.

Every one who has heard of Canada and the United
States must be aware that the pine and fir forests cover
a vast area of the new continent. Among the remark-
able features of Canada, the * lumbering-parties ' are
not the least picturesque. These are clubs or bands of
men who form a kind of « joint-stock tree-cutting com-
pany/ and undergo no few hardships in the course of
their labours. The proceedings ot these lumbering-
parties have been fully described by an eye-witness, in
our No. 352.

[Etruscan Vase..

ETRUSCAN ANTIQUITIES AT THE BRITISH
MUSEUM.

There perhaps is not any department of the British
Museum devoted to antiquities which, to those who
know comparatively little of ancient history, excites so
much interest as the Egyptian room. The most un-
learned will survey attentively the intelligible memo-
rials of manners and customs which, though so ancient,
exhibit feelings and passions essential to man's nature
in every age. The ornaments worn three thousand

years ago gratified the Same feelings then as they dc>
now. The insight obtained into the domestic life of
so remote a period shows only different modes of sub-
serving the same ends amongst a people who made the
greatest advance in early civilization. The Museum
catalogue affords full explanation of the various objects
presented to the eyes of the visitor. In passing through
a room nearly empty, we enter another apartment, the
objects in which are not yet perfectly arranged, nor
are they described in the catalogue. These are the
Etruscan antiquities. They do not at once claim the

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visitor's attention so strongly as the memorials of
ancient Egypt, but still we may read in them passages
in the history of a people, and learn something of their
domestic life, public ceremonies, and religious institu-
tions. We know little besides what these vases tell us
of a people who existed in Italy prior to the Romans,
and who gave a deep and lasting impression to the
religion and institutions of Rome. The language of
the Etrurians is forgotten, the site of many of their
cities is a matter of dispute ; and had it not been for
the great veneration in which they held their dead, and
the arrangements which they made for their sepulture,
we should have been unable to follow them to the re-
mote times in which they existed as a flourishing
people, evincing a taste, refinement, and magnificence
in the arts and in their public ceremonials, which we
can scarcely believe of a nation whose history is other-
wise so obscure. They excelled in various arts, but
they are universally known for their works in baked clay.
Several centuries before the building of Rome,
which occurred about two thousand six hundred years
ago, the Etrurians were settled in Italy on both sides
of the Apennines. Etruria Proper is now the present
Tuscany, with the addition of that part of the Papal
States which lies on the banks of the Tiber. The
Etruscan towns formed independent communities,
governed by an aristocracy, the ' people,' who were
probably a conquered race, being in a state of serfdom.
The Etruscan settlements in Italy were established
probably about three thousand or three thousand two
hundred yea^s since ; and their existence as a nation
was destroyed by the Romans after it had lasted eight
or ten centuries. Their lands were given to the mili-
tary colonies of Rome. The Etruscan language gra-
dually became obliterated, except among the priests ;
and soon after the establishment of Christianity it be-
came finally extinct. Niebuhr and all the best autho-
rities agree that it is lost. Dr. Arnold, in his * History
of Rome,' in reference to the probability of a know-
ledge of it being restored, remarks that " the study and
comparison of the several Indo-Germanic languages is
making such progress, that if any fortunate discovery
comes to aid it, we may hope to see the mystery of the
Etruscan inscriptions at length unravelled." In the
meantime we must be content with the pictorial lan-
guage of the vases found in the tombs. These vases
belong to three different periods of art, each exhibiting
its peculiar style. The most ancient are those which
resemble the Egyptian style ; and it has been asserted
that they were imported from Egypt, but they were
most probably of native manufacture from Egyptian
copies: harpies, sphynxes, griffins, &c. are figured
upon them. They are party-coloured of red and black
upon a pale yellow ground. The next in order are
those with black figures on a red ground, in stiff and
ungraceful outline, while the form of the vase itself is
often very elegant. The most modern have red figures.
The form of the vase is still more elegant, and often
exquisitely beautiful, and the figures are graceful and
spirited. They represent stories of gods and heroes,
as well as incidents of domestic life. It has been said
that the vases of this style were imported from Greece ;
but, on the other hand, the more probable history of the
manufacture is that it was first brought from Egypt
into Etruria, and was there carried to very high per-
fection, as shown in the black figured vases ; and that
it was afterwards further improved by Greek artists
who settled in Etruria.

Mrs. Hamilton Gray, who is an enlightened enthu-
siast on the subject of Etruscan antiquities — of which
she has formed a valuable collection at Bolsover Castle,
containing several unique articles — remarks, in her
1 Sepulchres of Etruria,' that " you will rarely see a
black figure easy, natural, or graceful, however ex-

quisite may be the beauty of its workmanship ; and
you will seldom be able to trace in a red figure that
peculiar stiff and rigid quaintness which is charac-
teristic of the most ancient Etruscan art. Those
black figures which have a sketchy and flowing ease
are on vases of a very inferior material and execution,
and belong to the period of the decay of art, like the
roughly-drawn red figures which are so common."
The most modern Etruscan vases are about two thou-
sand years old. None have been found at Herculancum
or Pompeii, though they were made in the neighbour-
hood in the highest perfection ; and vases of terra-
cotta, not painted, exist in great number in these lava-
covered cities. It is inferred from this circumstance
that the peculiarities of the Etruscan art had been lost
before these places were covered by the eruption of
Vesuvius in the first century.

Tarquinia, Veii, Vulci, Tuscania, and the other
cities from whose necropoli the vases and other Etrus-
can remains have been collected, are in the neighbour-
hood of Civita Vecchia, and within a day's journey of
Rome. The dealers in antiquities at Rome hire land
where the burying-places were situated, and there
carry on their excavations. The cemetery of an Etrus-
can city was as large as the city itself. Above two
thousand tombs have been opened in that of Tarquinia,
and it is computed to extend over sixteen square miles,
and to contain not less than two million tombs ; and
yet it is surrounded on all sides by cemeteries of other
cities of scarcely inferior extent. A common un painted
tomb consists of two vaulted chambers, small and low.
On one side stands the sarcophagus, or bier, with its
wreath, or arms, and around upon the walls are bronzes
and terra-cotta. There are usually a number of vases
on the ground near the sarcophagus. The subjects of
the painted tombs are chariot-races, festivals, battles,
in a spirited and lively-coloured style, •* expressed,"
says Mrs. Hamilton Gray, " with a grouping and a
spirit which is Greek, and a mannerism which is Egyp-
tian." The lids of the coffins have, in some cases,
figures of men and women in alto relievo, and in the
coffins have been found a wreath of ivy, or of bay, in
pure gold, or a helmet and spear ; and in others some-
thing of gold or bronze, scarabaei, gems, jewellery ; b\;t
rarely coins.

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[January 21,

THE TRINITY HOUSE.

In our previous numbers we have piven an account of
the classification of the mercantile navy of Great
Britain, and of the nature of the establishment known
as " Lloyd's ;" we now complete the subject by a de-
scription of the nature and duties of the corporation
known as the Trinity House, to whose care are com-
mitted the lighthouses of Great Britain, the pilotage
of the Thames, and other duties. The full title of the
corporation is * The Master, Wardens, and Assistants of
the Guild, Fraternity, or Brotherhood of the Most
Glorious and Undivided Trinity, and of Saint Clement,
in the parish of Deptford Strond in the county of
Kent' — an institution to whose members is intrusted the
management of some of the most important interests
of the seamen and shipping of England. Its duties
and powers will best appear by a review of its history,
and of the royal charters, grants, and several statutes
under which the same exist. The earlier records, to-
gether with the house of the corporation, were destroyed
by fire in 1714, so that the origin of the institution can
only now be inferred from usage and the occasional
mention of its purposes in documents of a later period.
It seems however certain that the increase of shipping
and the use of vessels of great burden having aug-
mented the importance of a correct knowledge of the
intricacies of the navigation of the channels leading
into the river Thames and of the river itself, an asso-
ciation of seamen was formed for the purpose of for-
warding and assisting the attainment of that object. It
was material also that this knowledge should be solely
possessed by British subjects ; and probably this was
present to the mind of Frenry VII., who, when earl of
Richmond, with a very inferior fleet, had crossed the
English Channel from Harfleur, and effected a landing
at Milford Haven, without molestation. That king
bestowed great care upon the improvement of the
navy, and it is presumed that with him originated the
scheme, afterwards carried into effect by his son Henry
VIII., of forming efficient Navy and Admiralty boards,
which then first became a separate branch of public
service. During the reign of Henry VIII. the arse-
nals at Woolwich and Deptford were founded; and
we learn from Stowe that the Deptford-yard establish-
ment was subsequently placed under the direction of
the Trinity House, who likewise surveyed the navy
provisions and stores. The earliest official document
now extant is a charter of incorporation made by
Henry VIII. in the 6th year of his reign. The first
master acting under it was Sir Thomas Spert, com-
mander of the famous ship called Henry Gracc-a-Dieu,
built by Henry VII. An exemplification of this
charter was granted by George II. in the third year of
his reign. By this charter the " shipmen and mariners
are to establish a certain guild or perpetual fraternity ;"
and the brethren are empowered from time to time to
elect one master, four wardens, and eight assistants,
to govern and oversee the guild, and have the cus-
tody of the lands and possessions thereof, and have
authority to admit natural-born subjects into the fra-
ternity, and to communicate and conclude amongst
themselves and with others upon the government of
the guild and all articles concerning the science or art
of mariners, and make laws, &c. for the increase and
relief of the shipping, and punish those offending
against such laws; collect penalties, arrest or distrain
the persons or ships of offenders, according to the laws
and customs of England or of the Court of Admi-
ralty. The- charter also grants to the corporation all
liberties, franchises, and privileges which their pre-
decessors the shipmen or mariners of England ever
enjoyed.
It is supposed that prior to the incorporation by

Henry VIII. there was a station belonging to the as-
sociation of seamen near the entrance of the river, for
the purpose of supplying pilots to vessels inwards, as
well as one at Deptford or London for the supply to
vessels outwards.

On arriving at the reign of Queen Elizabeth it is
impossible not to be struck by the wisdom and fore-
sight of the measures taken by that queen through the
agency of the Trinity House for the purpose of for-
warding the interests of the sea-service, measures the
more to be regarded when brought into contrast with
those of some of her successors. In the first year of
her reign she recognised all the rights and immunities
of the corporation (reciting in a charter confirming the
same certain grants from King Edward VI. and Queen
Mary) ; and in the 8th year of her reign an act was
passed, enabling the corporation to preserve ancient
sea-marks, to erect beacons, marks, and si^ns for the
sea, and to grant licences to mariners during the in-

tervals of their engagements to ply for hire as water
men on the river Thames. This act describes the

the

members of the corporation as "a company of the
chiefest and most expert masters and governors of
ships incorporate within themselves, charged with the
conduction of the queen's majesty's navy royal, and
bound to foresee the good increase and maintenance of
ships and of all kind of men traded and brought up by
watercraft most meet for her majesty's marine ser-
vice ;" and after reciting the destruction of steeples,
woods, and other marks on the coasts, whereby divers
ships had been lost, to the great detriment and hurt of
the common weal and the perishing of no small num-
ber of people, prohibits the destruction of any existing
marks after notice, under a penalty of 100/., a very heavy
fine in those days. An important question arose in the
reign of James I., whether tne words of the act of the 8th
Elizabeth included lighthouses, which it would seem had
not been introduced in England at the time it was
passed : it appears to have been held by the two chief
justices, 1 James I., that they did (4 Inst., 149). Never-
theless, in 1616, Sir William Erskinc and Sir John
Meldrum having applied for a patent to erect lights at
Winterton, the corporation of Trinity House petitioned
against it, on the ground that they alone were entitled
to make such erections, and the privy council decided
in their favour. The king, however, was prevailed on
to refer the matter to Sir Francis Bacon, then attorney-
general, who reported his most able opinion in these
striking words:— "That lighthouses are marks and
signs within the meaning of the statute and charter.
That there is an authority mixed with a trust settled in
that corporation for the erection of such lighthouses
and other marks and signs from time to time as the ac-
cidents and moveable nature of the sands and channels
doth require, grounded upon the skill and experience
which they have in marine service ; and this authority
and trust cannot be transferred from them by law, but
as they only are answerable for the defaults, so they
only are trusted with the performance, it being a
matter of an high and precious nature, in respect of
the salvation of ships and lives, and a kind of starlight
in that element." This was read in council, and on the
26th March, 1617, an order was made reciting it, and
" that their lordships found further cause to be con-
firmed in their first opinion that the masters of the
Trinity House of Deptford Strond ought solely to have
the erecting and disposing of all such sea-marks and
signs, and that no other person ought to intermeddle
therein ; which their lordships did this day declare in
council as the opinion of the board, with a saving still
to his majesty's further pleasure. But withal straitly
admonished the said masters of the Trinity House upon
their duties, that as they were only trusted, and all
others excluded, they should be careful to discharge

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that trust which the state had reposed in them, and
that in all places needful they should cause to he
speedily and timely set up such lights and other sea-
marks and signs as may serve for the sate direction of
sea-faring men upon any of his majesty's coasts what-
soever, that the lives, ships, and goods of his majesty's
subjects, friends, and allies may not be in danger of
perishing through their negligence or want of care."
King James probably disapproved of this decision,
because it went to preclude mm from exercising that
lucrative trade in the sale of monopolies and patents
which formed so principal a grievance of his reign.
Accordingly very shortly afterwards, Sir Francis Bacon
having been made lord Keeper, the same point of law
was referred to Sir Henry Yelverton, then attorney-
general, and such of the king's council as he might
think proper to call to his assistance.

The result was the following report, more satisfac-
tory perhaps to his majesty, but the cause, in aftertime,
of much evil, loss, and expense to the nation, because
the management of several lighthouses was in conse-
quence granted to individuals. After stating the cir-
cumstances, the Report, which' is dated 4th June, 1617,
goes on : —
*' We herein certify our opinion to your lordships : —
" 1. That lighthouses aresigpsand marks within the
meaning of the statute aforesaid.

44 2. That there is an authority given by the statute
to the Trinity House, to erect such lighthouses if they
think fit, and a trust reposed in them to do it if they
will.

" 3. That they of the Trinity House cannot transfer
this authority to any other.

"But we are of opinion that the authority given to
the Trinity House by the statute 8th of Elizabeth,
taketh not away the power and right which was and
still is in the Crown by the common law to erect such
houses. For that statute is made wholly in the affir-
mative, that they of the Trinity House shall and may
erect such lights and marks at sea, but excludes not
his majesty. And we arc informed that since the statute,
both in the time of his majesty and of the late queen,
there have been some lighthouses erected by authority
from the crown.

" And therefore, howsoever the ordinary authority
and trust for the performance df this service is com-
mitted to the said corporation alone, as persons of skill
and trust to that purpose, yet if they be not vigilant to
perform it in all places necessary, his majesty is not re-
strained to provide them according to his regal power
and justice, for the safety of his subjects' lives, goods,
and shipping in all places needful."

In the 36th year of her reign Queen Elizabeth, but
partly it would seem at the praiseworthy instance and
by the aid of Lord Howard of Effingham, her high
admiral, made a grant to the corporation of the lastage
and ballastage of all ships in the river Thames, and of
the beaconage and buoyage upon the coasts of the.
realm, which had previously anbrded a considerable
source of revenue to the lord high admiral. The grant
recites that he had surrendered into the queen's hands
the lastage and ballastage of all ships coining into or
being in the Thames, and also the right to erect and
place beacons, buoys, marks, and signs for the sea,
on it or on the shores, coasts, uplands, or forelands
near it, and besought her to grant all powers respect-
ing these matters to them. And it then proceeds to
grant the same and all fees relating to them in the ful-
lest manner to the corporation for ever.

James 1. soon after nis accession granted a charter
of confirmation dated 1604. What else he did has
already been stated, and by him and his successors
various patents for and leases of lighthouses to indivi-
duals were at different times granted. Charles II.

also granted to the Trinity House a charter of confirm-
ation, but in the 17th year of his reign he granted the
right of lastage and ballastage to one Colonel Carlos.
This was the more extraordinary, because by the
recital in his charter of the grant of Elizabeth he re-
cognized the right to be in the corporation : it was
however conferred upon Colonel Carlos on the assur-
ance that it would not injure them, and the colonel
was to pay 1000 marks a year for it into the Exchequer*.
The corporation resisted this grant successfully, and
soon after Colonel Carlos surrendered it to the king,
who re-granted it to the corporation for 31 years (Eli-
zabeth's grant having been " for ever "), with the ad-
dition of all the waste lands bordering on the Thames
from Staines Bridge to the Medway. This portion of
the grant was however disputed by tne City of London,
and eventually the king re-granted it as it had been
granted by Elizabeth, except that the fees and profits
were expressly appropriated to the use of poor sea-
men, their wives, &c., and the 1000 marks were
reserved to Colonel Carlos. The grant confirms the
exemption of the brethren and their servants, &c.
from all service, civil and military, unless by order of
Privy Council. James II., who was much interested
in naval matters, granted a fresh charter, the one now
in force, in the first year of his reign. It recites the
former grant and charter, and declares the body to be
a corporation, and that for the future it shall consist 4>f
one master, and one deputy master, four wardens and
four deputy wardens, eight assistants, and eight deputy
assistants, eighteen elder brethren, and a clerk. The
master nominated by the charter was Pepys, then secre-
tary to the admiralty. It determines the mode of election
of those officers, their continuance in office, and the
mode of removing them from it, if necessary ; and
declares that all seamen and mariners belonging to the
guild shall be younger brethren. It directs the masters
and wardens to examine such boys of Christ's Hospital
as shall be willing to become seamen, and to apprentice
them to commanders of ships. It also enables them
to appoint and license all pilots into and out of the
Thames, and prohibits under penalties all other per-
sons from exercising that office : it also authorises the
corporation to settle rates of pilotage, &c, to hold
courts, &c, to punish seamen deserting, &e., and make
laws as to their subject-matters not inconsistent with
the laws of the kingdom. It also contains many pro-
visions directed to the object of keeping the navigation
of the channels secret from foreigners, and renders
the officers of the corporation liable to attend when
required at the king's bidding. Since that time se-
veral acts of parliament have been passed for the
purpose of authorising the Trinity House to re-
gulate matters connected with the pilotage, &c. of
vessels.

The various provisions in matters of pilotage under
the management of the corporation were repealed by
the 6 Geo. IV., c. 125, entitled * An Act for the amend-
ment of the law respecting pilots and pilotage, and
also for the better preservation of floating lights, buoys,
and beacons,' which recites the extent of the jurisdic-
tion of the Trinity House in regard to pilots to be
upon the river Thames, through the North Channel,
to or by Orfordness, and round the Long Sand Head,
or through the Queen's Channel, the South Channel,
or other channels into the Downs, and from and by
Orfordness and up the North Channel, and up the
rivers Thames and Medway, and the several creeks
and channels belonging or running into the same ; and
contains a variety of minute regulations respecting the
examination, licensing, and employment of pilots, the
rates of pilotage, provisions for decayed pilots, the
protection of buoys, &c. At the present time however,
besides those under the jurisdiction of the Trinity

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[January 21,

House and tbe lord warden of the Cinque Ports, many
independent pilotage establishments exist in various
parts of the kingdom ; but the expediency of subjecting
all these to the sole, uniform management of the
Trinity House has been felt lor some time past, and
will probably soon become the subject 01 parlia-
mentary enactment. The inconvenience and disad-
vantage resulting from the exercise of similar autho-
rities vested in the hands of different parties had been
felt with regard to the lighthouses on the coast,
several of which were vested in private hands by the
crown ; while some had been in times past leased out
by the corporation itself, the lights in both instances
being found to be conducted probably rather with a
view to private interest than public utility. By an act
therefore of the 6 & 7 Wm. I v., c. 70, passed '• in order
to the attainment of uniformity of system in the ma-
nagement of lighthouses, and the reduction and equali-
zation of the tolls payable in respect thereof/' provision
was made for vesting all the lighthouses and lights on
the coasts of England in the corporation of the Trinity
House, and placing those of Scotland and Ireland
under their supervision. Under this act all the in-
terest of the crown in the lighthouses possessed by his
Majesty was vested in the corporation m consideration
of 300,000/. allowed to the Commissioners of Crown
Land Revenue for the same, and the corporation were
empowered to buy up the interests of the various
lessees of the crown and of the corporation, as well as
to purchase the other lighthouses from the proprietors
of them, subject in case of dispute to the assessment of
a jury. Under this act purchases have been made by
the corporation of the whole of the lighthouses not
before possessed by that body, the amount expended
for the purpose being little short of a million of
money.

The annual revenue of the corporation is very con-
siderable, and is derived from tolls paid in respect
of shipping receiving bench t from the lights, beacons,
and buoys, and from the ballast supplied. The ballast
is raised from such parts of the bed of the river as it
is expedient to deepen, by machinery attached to
vessels, and worked partly by the power of steam, and
partly by manual labour. The remainder of the
revenue proceeds from lands, stock, &c, held by the
corporation, partly by purchase, partly from legacies,
&c, and donations of individuals, 'ihe whole is em-
ployed upon the necessary expenses of the corporation
in constructing and maintaining their lighthouses and
lights, beacons and buoys, and the buildings and vessels
belonging to the corporation ; in paying the necessary
officers of their several establishments, and in pro-
viding relief for decayed seamen and ballastmen, their
widows, &c. Many almshouses have also at various
times been erected, which are maintained from the
j amc funds. The present house of the corporation is
on Tower Hill ; the Trinity House was formerly in
Water Lane, where it was twice destroyed by fire. Of
?he Elder Brethren, eleven consist ol noblemen and
heads of the government departments, admirals, &c,
who are styled honorary brethren ; twenty are maritime
commanders, selected irom the several branches of
the merchant service, who have retired from employ-
ment, and recently one has been chosen from the
service of her Majesty's navy. The younger brethren
(who ar« unlimited in number), are or have been com-
manders of merchant-ships. Neither the honorary
members nor the Younger Brethren derive any pecu-
niary advantage from their connection with the cor-
poration. The present master is the Duke of Wel-
lington. Mr. Pitt filled that office for seventeen years,
and King William IV. was master at the time of his
accession to tbe throne. Formerly, according to Stowe,
soa-causes were tried by the Brethren, and their

opinions were certified to the common-law courts and
courts of Admiralty, such cases being referred to them
for that purpose. This is not, however, the practice at
present; but two of the Elder Brethren now sit as
assistants to the judge in the court of Admiralty in
almost all cases where any question upon navigation
is likely to arise. The various duties of the corpora-
tion are parcelled out among the wardens and different
committees appointed for the purpose of discharging the
same. One of the most important of these is the Com-
mittee of Examiners, before whom all masters of vessels
in the navy, as well as pilots, undergo an examination.
The deputy roaster and Elder Brethren are from time
to time employed on voyages of inspection of their light-
houses and lights, beacons and buoys, not unfrequently
in most trying weather and seasons ; and they are also
often engaged in making surveys, &c. on the coast,
and reports on such matters of maritime character as
are referred to them by the government. The sums
paid to the deputy master and Elder Brethren for their
services are — to tne former 500/. per annum, and 100/.
further as the chairman of all committees, and to each
of the Elder Brethren 300/. per annum.

Power of Lramivg. — A3 for fortune niul advancement, the
beneficence of learning is not so confined to give fortune only to
states and commonwealths, as it doth not likewise give fortune
to particular persons. For it was well noted long ago, that
Homer hath given more men their livings than either Scylla, or
Csesar, or Augustus ever did, notwithstanding their great lar-
gesses and donatives, and distributions of lauds to so many
legions : and no doubt it is hard to say whether arms or learn-
ing have advanced greater numbers. And in case of sovereignty
we see, that if arms or desceut have carried away the kingdom,
yet learning hath carried the priesthood, which ever hath been
in some competition with empire. — Lord Bacon,

Food be»t adapted fur Mutt. — The food best adapted for man is
that which contains a due mixture of azotised matter (fibrine,
albumen, kc.\ and iion-a/.ottst d matter (*»ugar, starch, &cr). Dr.
Liebig says : — " A nation «4* hunters, on a limited space, is ut-
terly incapable of increasing its numbers beyond a certain point,
whirh is soon attained. The whole of the carbon necessary for
respiration must be obtained from the Mesh of animals, of which
only a limited nubmer can find fowl on the space supposed.
But 15 lbs. of flesh contain not more carbon than 4 lbs. of starch ;
and while the savage, with one animal and an equal weight of
starch, could support life and health for a certain number ol
days, he would be compelled, if confined to flesh alone, in order
to procure the carbou necessary for respiration and for the animal
beat, to consume live such animals in the same period. It i*
easy to s«e, from these considerations, how close the connection
is between agriculture and the multiplication of the human
species. The cultivation of our crops has ultimately no other
object than the production of a maximum of those substances
which are adapted for assimilation and respiration in tbe small-
est possible space. Grain and other nutritious vegetables yield
us, not only in the form of starch, &c, tbe carbon which pro-
tects our organs from the action of oxygen, and serves to pro-
duce also the heat essential to life, but also, in the form of ve-
getable fibrine, albumen, and caseiue, our blood, from which all
the other parts of the body are developed. Man, when confined
to animal food, respires, like the camivora, at the expense of the
matters produced oy the metamorphosis of organised tissues ;
and, just as the lion, tiger, and hyena, in the cages of a mena-
gerie, are compelled to accelerate the waste of the organised tis-
sues by incessant motion, in order to furnish tbe matters neces-
sary for respiration and for animal heat, so the savage, for tbe
very same object, is forced to make the most laborious exertions,
and to go through a vast amount of muscular exercise. He is
compelled to consume force, merely in order to supply matter
fur respiration. Cultivation is the economy of force. ...
The unprofitable exertion of power, the waste of force in agri-
culture, in other branches of industry, in science, or in social
economy, is characteristic of the savage state, ur of the absence
of cultivation." — Qucuierly Review.

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ESSAYS ON THE LIVES OF REMARKABLE
PAINTERS.— No. I.
Giovanni Cimabuh,

Horn at Florence. 1840, died about 1302.

To Cimabue for three centuries had been awarded the
lofty title of "Father of Modern Painting;" aud to
him, on the authority of Vasari, had been ascribed the
merit,, or rather the miracle, of having reyived the art
of painting when utterly lost, dead, and buried ; of
having by his single genius brought light out of dark-
ness—form and beauty out of chaos. The error or
gross exaggeration of Vasari in making these claims
for his countryman has been pointed out by later
authors: some have even denied to Cimabue any
share whatever in the regeneration of art ; and at all
events it seems clear that his claims have been much
over-stated; that so far from painting being a lost
art in the thirteenth century, and the race of artists
annihilated, as Vasari would lead us to believe, several
cotemporary painters were living and working in
the cities and churches of Italy previous to 1240 ; and
it is possible to trace back an uninterrupted series of
pictorial remains and names of painters even to the
fourth century. But in depriving Cimabue of his false
glories, enough remains to interest and fix attention on
the period at which he lived : his name has stood too
long, too conspicuously, too justly, as a landmark in

no. 694.

the history of art to be now thrust back under the
waves of oblivion. A rapid glance over the progress
of painting before his time will enable us to judge of
his true claims, and place him in his true position rela-
tive to those who preceded and those who followed him.
The early Christians had confounded, in their honor
of heathen idolatry, all imitative art and all artists.
When, in the fourth century, the struggle between
paganism and Christianity ended in the triumph and
recognition of the latter, and art revived, it was, if
not in a new form, in a new spirit, by which the old
forms were to be gradually moulded and modified. The
Christians found the shell of ancient art remaining ;
the traditionary handicraft still existed ; certainraodels
of figure and drapery, &c., handed down from antiquity,
though degenerated and distorted, remained in use,
and were applied to illustrate, by direct or symbolical
representations, the tenets of a purer faith. From the
beginning, the figures selected to typify our redemp-
tion were those of the Saviour and the Blessed Virgin,
first separately, and then conjointly as the Mother and
Infant. The earliest monuments of Christian art re-
maining are to be found, nearly effaced, on the walls
and ceilings of the catacombs at Rome, to which the
persecuted martyrs of the faith had fled for refuge.
The first recorded representation of the Saviour is in
the character of the Good Shepherd, and the attributes
of Orpheus and Apollo were borrowed to express the

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[January 28,

character of Him who «' redeemed souls from Hell, '
and 4< gathered his people like sheep." In the ceme-
tery of St. Calixtus at Rome a head of Christ was dis-
covered, the most ancient of which any copy has come
down to us : the figure is colossal ; the lace a long oval ;
the countenance mild, grave, melancholy; the long
hair, parted on the brow, falling in two masses on
cither shoulder ; the beard not thick, but short and
divided. Here then, obviously imitated from some
traditional description (probably the letter of Lentulus
to the Roman Senate, supposed to be a fabrication of
the third century), we have the type, the generic cha-
racter since adhered to in the representations of the
Redeemer. In the same manner traditional heads of
St. Peter and St. Paul, rudely sketched, became in
after-times the groundwork of the highest dignity and
beauty, still retaining that peculiarity of form and
character which time and long custom had consecrated
in the eyes of the devout.

A controversy arose afterwards in the early Christian
Church which had a most important influence on art
as subsequently developed. One party, with St Cyril
at their head, maintained that the form of the Saviour
being described by the Prophet as without any outward
comeliness, he should be represented in painting as
utterly hideous and repulsive. Happily the most elo-
quent and influential among the fathers of the church,
St. Jerome, St. Augustin, St. Ambrose, and St. Bernard,
took up the other side of the question ; the pope,
Adrian I., threw his infallibility into the scale ; and
from the eighth century we find it irrevocably decided,
and confirmed by a papal bull, that the Redeemer
should be represented with all the attributes of divine
beauty which art in its then rude state could lend him.

The most ancient representations of the Virgin Mary
now remaining are the old mosaics, which are referred
to the latter half of the fifth century :* in these she is
represented as a colossal figure majestically draped,
standing, one hand on her breast, and her eyes raised to
heaven ; then succeeded her image in her maternal
character, seated on a throne with the infant Saviour
in her arms. We must bear in mind, once for all, that
from the earliest ages of Christianity the Virgin
Mother has been selected as the allegorical type of Re-
ligion in the abstract sense; and to this, her sym-
bolical character, must be referred those representa-
tions of later times, in which she appears as trampling
on the Dragon : as folding the nations of the earth
within the skirts of her ample robe ; as interceding for
sinners ; as crowned between heaven and earth by the
Father and the Son.

Besides the representations of Christ and the Virgin,
some of 'the characters and incidents of the Old Testa-
ment were selected as pictures, generally with reference
to corresponding characters and incidents in the Gospel ;
thus St. Augustin, in the latter half of the fourth cen-
tury, speaks of the sacrifice of Isaac as a common sub-
ject, typical, of course, of the Great Sacrifice. This
system of corresponding subjects, of type and anti-type,
was afterwards, as we shall see, carriea much farther.

In the seventh century painting, as it existed in
Europe, may be divided into two great schools or
styles— the western, or Roman, of which the central
point was Rome, and which was distinguished, amid
great rudeness of execution, by a certain dignity of ex-
pression and solemnity of feeling ; and the Eastern, or
Byzantine school, of which Constantinople was the
head-quarters, and which was distinguished by greater
mechanical skill, by adherence to the old classical
forms, by the use of gilding, and by the mean, vapid,
spiritless conception of motive and character.

From the seventh to the ninth century the most im-
portant and interesting remains of pictorial art are the
* At Youice and in the churches of Rome and Pna.

mosaics in the churches,* and the miniature paimings
with which the MS. Bibles and Gospels were deco-
rated.

But during the tenth and eleventh centuries Italy
fell into a state of complete barbarism and confusion,
which almost extinguished the practice of art in any
shape ; of this period only a few works of extreme
rudeness remain. In the Eastern empire painting still
survived ; it became, indeed, more and more conven-
tional, .insipid, and incorrect, but the technical me-
thods were Kept up ; and thus it happened that when,
in 1204, Constantinople was taken by the Crusaders,
and that the intercourse between the east and west of
Europe was resumed, several Byzantine painters soon
afterwards passed into Italy and Germany, where they
were employed to decorate* the churches ; and taught
the practice of their art, their manner of pencilling,
mixing and using colours, and gilding ornaments, }o
such as chose to learn of them. They brought over the
Byzantine types of form and colour, the long lean
limbs, the dark-visaged Madonnas, the blood-stream-
ing crucifixes ; and these were followed more or less
servilely by the native Italian painters who # studied
under them. Specimens of this early art remain, and iu
these later times have been diligently sought and col-
lected into museums as curiosities, illustrating the his-
tory and progress of art: as such they are in the
highest degree interesting ; but it must be confessed
that otherwise they are not attractive. In the Berlin
Gallery, and in that of the fine arts at Florence, the
best specimens have been brought together, and there
are a tew in the Louvrc.t The subject is geneially
the Madonna and Child, throned, sometimes with
angels or saints ranged on each side : the figures are
stiff, the extremities long and meagre ; the head of the
Virgin generally declined to the left ; the eyes Jong
and narrow : the infant Saviour is generally clothed,
and sometimes crowned ; two fingers of his right hand
extended in act to bless ; the left band holding a globe,
a scroll, or a book. The ornaments of the throne and
borders of the draperies, and frequently the back-
ground, are elaborately gilded ; the local colours are
generally vivid; there is little or no relief; the hand-
ling is streaky ; the flesh-tints arc blackish or greenish.
At this time, and for two hundred years, afterwards
(before the invention of oil-painting) pictures were
painted either in fresco, an art never wholly lost, or
on seasoned board, and the colours mixed with water
thickened with white of e^g or the juice of the voting
shoots of the fig-tree. This last method was styled by
the Italians a colla or a tempera ; by the French, en
dStrempe; and in English, distemper: an.d in this
manner all movable pictures were executed previous
to 1440.

It is clear that before the birth of Ciinabue, that
is, from 1200 to 1240, there existed schools of paint-
ing in the Byzantine style, and under Greek teachers,
at Sienna and at Pisa ; that the former produced
Guido da Sienna, whose Madonna and Child, with
figures the size of life, signed and dated 1221, is pre
served in the church of San Domenico at Sienna. It
is engraved in Rossini's • Storia del la Pittuia,* on the
same page with a Madonna by Cimabuc, to which it
appears superior in drawing, attitude, expression, and
drapery. Pisa produced about the same time Giunta
da Pisa, of whom there remain* works with the date
1236 : one of these is a Crucifixion, engraved iu Otley's
* Italian School of Design/ and on a smaller scale in
Rossini's 4 Storia della Pittura,' in which the expi es-
sion of grief in the hovering angels, who are wringing
their hands and weeping, is very earnest and striking.

* Particularly those in the cliurch of Santa Maria Majeure
at Rome, and in the cliurch of St. Mark at Venice,
f No*. 080, 9S1, 9*2.

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But undoubtedly the greatest man of that time, he who
pave the grand impulse to modern art, was the sculptor
Nicola Pisano, whose works date from about 1220 to
1270. Further, it appears, that even at Florence a
native painter, a certain Maestro Bartolomeo, lived,
and was employed in 1236.* Thus Cimabue can
scarcely claim to be the " father of modern painting "
even in his own city of Florence. We shall now pro-
ceed to the facts on which his traditional celebrity has
been founded.

[To be continued.]

ECONOMICAL USES OF THE PINE AND
FIR.

The benefits which man receives from trees of the
pine and fir genera aTe varied and important in a
degree which deserves our attention. They furnish
timber for houses and for ships ; they form £ood roads ;
they provide for some nations a substitute tor candles ;
their bark yields a tanning ingredient ; various parts
of them, in different countries, are converted into arti-
cles of food ; fhey yield numerous varieties of the sub-
stances known as resin, pitch, tar, and turpentine;
and they are serviceable, in a living state, in fixing
sandy soils.

Let us first notice the edible properties of the pine
and fir. These trees belong to the Conifertz, or cone-
bearing trees, and the cones of many varieties are cus-
tomarily eaten in some countries. They are in fact
the fruit of the pine ; but the " pine-apple," commonly
so called, is a misnomer, since it is the fruit of another
kind of plant, which has obtained this name from its
resemblance to the cone of the pine. The Romans
used the cones of the pine to flavour their wine, and
many modern nations do the same. The Laplanders
grind the inner bark of the Scotch nine into a kind of
coarse flour, which they make into oread. Mr. Laing
says that he found this custom very prevalent in the
cold countries of Norway and Lapland ; and indeed
many of the forests which used to supply timber for
exportation are now almost destroyed, from the exten-
sive use of the inner bark of the trees for food. A
mixture of oat and pine meal is said to make very
tolerable bread : the meal is made into a fluid paste,
which is thrown on a hot pan and dressed in the man-
ner of pancakes. In some parts of Siberia the young
shoots, as well as the inner bark, are used for food.
Evelyn states that chips of the Scotch pine were in his
days used as a substitute for hops ; and other writers
state that the young shoots, stripped of their leaves
when just about to appear, are sought for with avidity
by the children of the peasantry, who eat them.

Of another species, the stone-pine, the kernels of the
fruit have a taste which approaches to that of the hazel-
nut, and in France and Italy are often introduced at the
dessert. Sir G. Staunton mentions that the kernels of
the stone-pine are also much relished by the Chinese.
In Italy they are put into several kinds of ragofits, and
are often used as substitutes for almonds. In Provence
they are used in conjunction with dried currants.
These kernels are sometimes preserved in salt and
sometimes in honey; but if kept closed within the
cones, they will retain their vitality and freshness for
five or six years.

Of another kind, the Cembra pine, the kernels are
used as those of the stone-pine ; and in addition to this
they are made to yield oil: indeed, so abundant is the
oil, that one pound of the kernels will yield twice as
much as an equal weight of flax-seed. This oil is used
both for food and for fuel. The shell of the kernel
produces a red dye. The kernels, in some seasons,

* Notes to c Vasari/ edit. 1832.

form the chief article of food in Siberia, and they are
deemed valuable medicinal agents.

Without mentioning minor edible uses, we may
briefly speak of the spruce, obtained from the spruce
fir of America. Spruce beer is a kind of extract from
the twigs and young shoots of this tree. The twigs are
fastened into a faggot or bundle, and boiled for some
time in a copper, till the bark separates from the
twigs. While this is doing, a given weight of oats is
roasted on a hot plate, together with a certain number
of sea-biscuits or slices of bread. These ingredients
are then put into the boiler and boiled with the twigs
for somo time. The spruce branches being then taken
out, and the fire extinguished, the oats and the bread
fall to the bottom, and the leaves, &c. rise to the top.
Molasses or coarse brown sugar is added, and the
liquor is immediately tunned off into a cask. Before
the liquor becomes cold, half a pint of yeast is mixed
with it, and well stirred, to incorporate it thoroughly
with the liquor. In England spruce beer is made from
the " essence of spruce," which is prepared in America
by evaporating to the consistence of an extract the
water in which the ends of the young branches of
spruce fir have been boiled.

As timber-trees, the pine and the fir are so valuable,
and are used in such a large variety of ways, that it
would be utterly impracticable to enumerate them.
One species yields long straight timbers for masts of
ships ; another is available for part of the hull ; a third
for flooring-boards in a house ; and so on, every
scrap of timber in all the varieties being available in
one or other of various ways. We may take as a single
instance the white pine, and quote the account which
Michaux gives of the uses to which it is applied in
America, where large numbers of the houses are
entirely built of this wood : — " The ornamental work
of the outer doors, the cornices and pieces of apart-
ments, and the mouldings of fire-places, all of which
in America are elegantly wrought, arc of this wood.
It receives gilding well, and is therefore selected for
looking-glasses and picture-frames.. Sculptors employ
it exclusively for the images that adorn the bows of
vessels, for which they prefer the kind called _ the
pumpkin pine. At Boston, and in other towns of the
Northern States, the inside of mahogany furniture and
of trunks, the bottoms of Windsor chairs of an inferior
quality, water-pails, a great part of the boxes used for
packing goods, the shelves lor shops, and an endless
variety of other objects, are made of white pine. In
the district of Maine it is employed for barrels to
contain salted fish, especially the kind called the sap-
ling pine, which is of a stronger consistence. For the
magnificent wooden bridges over the Schuylkill at
Philadelphia, and the Delaware at Trenton, and for
those which unite Cambridge and Charlestown with
Boston, of which the first is fifteen hundred and the
second three thousand feet in length, the white pine
has been chosen for its durability. It serves ex-
clusively for the masts of the numerous vessels con-
structed in the northern and middle states ; and for
this purpose it would be difficult to replace it in North
America."

As an example of the use of the pine in ship-building
the following inscription, given by Mr. Loudon in his
' Arboretum/ maybe sufficient. In the entrance-hall
of Gordon Castle in Scotland, there is a plank of
Scotch pine about six feet long, by more than five
broad, and in it is a brass plate bearing this inscription :
" In the year 1783, William Osborne, Esq., merchant,
of Hull, purchased of the Duke of Gordon the forest
of Glenmore, the whole of which he cut down in the
space of twenty-two years, and built, during that time,
at the mouth of the river Spev, where never vessel
was built before, forty-seven sail of ships of upwards

3E 2

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[January 2S,

of 17,000 tons burden. The largest of them, of 1050
tons, and three others little inferior in size, arc now
in the service of hit-Majesty and the Honourable East
India Company. This undertaking ttas completed at
the expense (of labour only) of above 70,000/. To his
Grace the Duke of Gordon this plank is offered, as a
specimen of the growth of one of the trees in the above
forest, by His Grace's most obedient servant, William
Osborne. Hull, Sept. 26, 1836.'

In Russia, roads are formed of the trunks of the
Scotch pine. The trees selected arc such as have
trunks trom six to twelve inches in diameter at their
thickest end. The branches of these are lopped off to
the length of twelve or fifteen feet, according to the
width of the intended road, but are left remaining at
the ends. The ground being marked off for the road,
and made somewhat even on the surface, the trees are
laid down across it side by side, the thick end of one
trunk alternating with the narrow end of another, and
the branches at the ends of the trunks forminp a sort of
hedge on each side of the road. The interstices of the
trunks are next filled up with soil ; and the road is
completed. The hedges formed by the branches in the
extremities of the trunks are found extremely useful
after snow has fallen, and before it has become hard
with the frost, and also in the commencement of a
thaw, in indicating to the traveller when his horses are
getting too near the edge of the road. Roads of this
rude description are very suitable for marshy ground,
and are common in the interior of Russia, and also in
some parts of Poland. Down to a recent period, the
greater part of the road from St. Petersburg to Mos-
cow was of this description. In some of the towns,
particularly Moscow and Kiew, regularly squared
planks are laid dowq instead of rough trunks ; and,
both in Moscow and Vienna, the courts of some of the
larger mansions are paved with pieces of pine-trunk
about eighteen inches in length, set Bide by side, and
beaten down till they form a level surface. In Ame-
rica these log-roads are much used, and obtain there
the name of " corduroy-roads," probably on account,
of a fancied resemblance between them and the
ribbed appearance of the twilled stuff known as cor-
duroy. In London, also, in all the various methods
introduced and patented of wood pavement, now so
rapidly increasing, the material, we believe, is in every
case the fir or pine.

The chips of many kinds of pine burn so brightly
that they form a valuable sort of fuel or illuminating
agent to poor cottagers. In Scotland, flambeaux of
pine-trunks and roots are much used ; and a story is
related of a wager laid in London by a Highland chief,
that some massive silver candlesticks on the table at a
gentleman's house where he was dining were not
better, or more valuable, than those commonly in use
in the Highlands. The chieftain won his bet, oy send-
ing to his estate for four Highlanders of his clan, and
producing them with torches of blazing fir in their
nands, declaring that they were the candlesticks to
which he alluded. The story has been also adopted by
Sir W. Scott, in his * Legend of Montrose.' Mr. Howi-
son observes of the peasantry in Russia, that the little
tallow or oil which they can procure is entirely con-
sumed at the shrines in the churches and before the
images in their huts. To supply the place of candles
in their domestic arrangements, they take long billets
of red Scotch pine, which they dry carefully near their
stoves during the tedious winter, and split as occasion
requires into long pieces resembling laths. When a
traveller arrives, or a light is required for any other
purpose, one of these filths is lighted at the stove,
and fixed in a wooden frame, which holds it in a
horizontal position. It gives a bright flame, but burns
only for a short time.

All the species of pine and fir are used, in the re-
spective countries where they grow, for a number of
purposes scarcely susceptible of classification. Take
the Norway spruce fir, for instance. It yields valuable
fuel and charcoal. The ashes furnish potash. The
bark is used in tanning; and the buds and youn^
shoots for making spruce beer. The cones, boiled in
whey, are deemed good against the scurvy. In Sweden
and Switzerland the young shoots form a winter food
for cattle and sheep ; and the inhabitants of Finmarkmix
the points of the shoots with the oats given to horses.
The floors of rooms in Norway and Sweden are, at
least once a week, strewed over with the green tops,
which on a uhitc, well-scoured deal floor have a lively
and pretty effect, and prevent the mud from the shoes
adhering to and soiling the wood ; giving out, at the
same time,-when trodden on, a refreshing odour. At
Swedish funerals the road into the churchyard and to
the grave is strewed with these green sprigs, the
gathering and selling of which is a sort of trade for
old poor persons about the towns. In both Sweden
and Norway the inner hark is made into baskets; and
the canoes, which are made of the timber of the large
trees, and which are so light as to be carried on a
man's shoulders when a rapid or cascade interrupts the
navigation, have their planks fastened together with
strings or cords made of the roots, so that not a single
nail is used in their construction. The long and
slender roots are made use of to form these strings ;
and they are rendered flexible by splitting them down
the middle, and boiling them for two or three hours in
water containing alkaline salts. .

The Scotch pine, in addition to the uses already
mentioned, yields excellent charcoal. The fagot wooa
of this kind of pine is said to be valued by the chalk
and lime burners of England more than any other, on
account of its rapid burning and intense beat, and con-
sequent saving of time in tending the kilns. The
leaves and branches are burned for potash, though of
this alkali the tree yields only a small quantity. In the
north of Russia and in Lapland the outer bark is used
for covering huts, for lining them, and as a substitute
for cork for floating the nets of fishermen. The inner
bark is woven into mats, like those made from the
lime-tree. Ropes are also made from the bark, which
are said to be very strong and elastic, and are gene-
rally used by the fishermen.

In all these details we have refrained from mention-
ing those products which arise from the juices of the
tree, and which, under various modifications, yield
resins, turpentine, tar, pitch, lamp-black, and other
Bubstances valuable in the arts. These form a group
of useful products of the pine and fir, so extensive and
instructive, that it may be well to devote a separate
paper to them.

Chine* Eatables. — They eat almost everything that comet to
hand. Upon the streets of the city, but particularly on the
large square before the factories, a number of birds are daily ex-
posed fbr sale which amongst us hare not yet gained much re-
pute for flavour ; among others, hawks, owls, eagles, and storks*
To a European, nothing can have a more laughable eflect than
to see the Chinese arrive with a carrying-pole supporting two
birdcages which contain dogs and cats instead of birds. A small
thin sort of spaniel appeared to us to be most in request ; they
sit quite downcast in their temporary dwellings when they are
brought to market, whilst the cats make a dreadful squalling, a*
if conscious of their fate. The flesh of these last, when they are
well fed, is much esteemed in China, and they are often seen on
the tables of the rich. Other Chinese bring unon their carrying-
pole many dozens of rats, which are drawn cjuite clean, and, like
pigs in our country, when they have been opened^ are hung up
by means of a cross piece of wood through the hind-legs. These
rows of rats look very nice, but they are only eaten by the poor
— Meym's Voyage round the fVortd,

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VENDEMMIA, OR ITALIAN VINTAGE.

In the design before us Bartolomineo Pinelli (in art
UltiinuB Romanorum !) brings out, to the life, a few
of those figures and incidents which render parts of the
Vendemmia or vintage in the south of Italy so grace-
ful, picturesque, and classical. This is a season of joy,
hilarity, and frolic, in all countries where the vine
grows and ripena its generous fruit in abundance ; and,
nearly everywhere, some attempt, more or less happy,
is made to get un some rural Dionysia (vintage feast)
or some semi-classical masquerade, with songs and
other allusions to the Liber Pater, the god of wine, the
great Bacchus. But in Italy, and more particularly
in the southern parts of that beautiful peninsula,
where— in many secluded districts at least — the old
Italic and Greco-Italic blood has been but compara-
tively little mingled with the blood of Goths or Visi-
goths, Huns or Lombards, Normans or any other of
the northern races, the successive conquerors of the
country ; where the classical ages fill as large a por-
tion of the popular traditions as the Gothic or dark or
middle ages occupy in the traditions of the northern
nations, mixing copiously with religious rites, and the
usages, ceremonies, and observances of domestic life,
and giving their point to popular proverbs, and fur-
nishing out the vocabulary of household words ; where
the constant view of ruined temples, aqueducts, am-
phitheatres, mutilated statues, vases covered with clas-
sical designs, and coins and medals dug up out of the
earth, and a constant hearing of the names of towns

ami village*, mountains and streams, that luve scarcely
varied from their designation in the days of the Caesars,
all serve to remind the people of the remote times
when the paean mythology was not "a creed outworn,"
but the popular belief, — these vintage feasts have a far
more classical and earnest character. In minor par-
ticulars these very unlettered peasants not uncom-
monly travestie ancient characters. They invariably
talk of Virgil, not as a poet, but as a mighty conjuror
and necromancer — a sort of Friar Bacon or Michael
Scott. Of Ovid (Ovidius Naso) they only pretend to
know that he had a very big nose. Cicero, from an
orator, statesman, philosopher, becomes in their par-
lance a synonymc for dandy, or for anything that is
very fine : thus Castiglione tells us that he once heard
aTtoman peasant wbo was eulogizing his own jackass,
exclaim in a rhapsody, ** Ah ! sirs, when he has got on
his new pack-saddle, he looks like a very Cicero !"
By another strange technical application or the word,
every ragged illiterate rogue that acts as a guide and
shows strangers the ancient sites and ruins is called
a Cicero — un Cicerone. But though they never read
mythology in books — for books of any kind are rarities
among them, and very few or none of them can read —
they are orally acquainted with the names of the
gods and goddesses, and seldom make mistakes as to
the characters and attributes of the higher divinities of
the classical paganism : their traditions, and the ancient
relics they see, almost with the force of reality or of a
real belief, give to Jove his thunderbolt, and to Juno
her chariot drawn by peacocks, her jealousy, and her

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[January 23,

scolding habits ; to Mars his helmet and spear and the
fale of battles, and to Venus, born of the sea, her
matchless beauty of face and form ; Ceres brings the
ripe corn that waves in the field and gives sustenance
to man, and Bacchus the wine that makes glad his
heart. Of these two last fabled divinities they will al-
most talk as of their favourite or patron saints. From
one end of Italy to the other there are few exclama-
tions more frequently in the mouths of the common
people than the " Per Bacco !" (by Bacchus), although,
he it said to their credit, they are not his votaries to
any excess in drinking.

The Vendcmmia, or Vintage, is a sort of rustic
Carnival, or Saturnalia holiday, in which, from time
immemorial, they have been accustomed to allow
themselves, and to be allowed by their masters and
superiors, a degree of liberty as large as obtained
among the common peonle of ancient Rome, when
they commemorated the freedom and equality which
prevailed on earth in the golden reign oi Saturn. As
long as it lasts, the peasants employed in it indulge in
a truly Fescennine licence of tongue with all who
approach or chance to pass by, bespattering them with
all manner of queer language, and pelting them with
doggrel rhymes, without any regard to their rank or
condition. When the wine is all trodden out in the
wine-press — trodden out by the naked feet of jumping,
frolicking, roaring swains — the prime part of the
festival commences, consisting generally of a semi-
ludicrous, semi-serious, classical procession, and of a
good repast at the end of it. On more than one
occasion we have observed a rather nice attention to
detail, and certain delicate distinctions which were
scarcely to have been expected from an ignorant, un-
read peasantry. One procession was really admirable.
Bacchus, instead of being represented in the manner
of our vulgar sign-painters, by a fat, paunchy, red-
faced, drunken boy, was personified by the tallest,
handsomest, and most graceful young man of the party ;
his head was crowned with a wreath of ivy and vine
leaves, mixed with bunches of the purple grape, which
hung down the sides and the back of his neck ; in his
right hand he carried a lance tipped with a cone of
pine or fir-apple, and the shaft was entwined with ivy
and vine leaves, and some wild autumnal flowers, the
thing thus being, as nearly as might be, the classical
thyrsus, one of the most ancient attributes of the
god and his followers ; a clean sheepVskin, spotted
with the red juice of the grape, in imitation of the
skin of the panther or spotted pard which Bacchus is
represented as wearing when he went on his expe-
ditions, was thrown gracefully over his shoulders ; he
was followed by some silent, sedate women, carrying
on their heads baskets filled with grapes; by little
boys carrying in their hands large bunches of the same
fruit ; by Bacchante of both sexes, who carried sticks
entwined with vine leaves; by two or three carri, or
carts, which had been used to convey the ripe fruit to
the wine-press, each drawn by a pair of tali cream-
coloured oxen, with those large, dark, pensive eyes to
which Homer thought it no disparagement to compare
the eyes of the wife of Jupiter ; and in the rear ot all
came Silenus, a fat old man with his face and hands
besm eared with wine-lees, bestriding a fat old ass.
The Bacchante bounded, danced, frolicked, and laughed
uproarously ; Silenus lolled and rolled upon his
donkey, singing snatches of Vendemmia songs, making
all sorts of ludicrous grimaces and gestures, and
jocosely yet loudly abusing every stranger or neigh-
bour he discovered in the throng. But Bacchus pre-
served the decorum and dignity of the true classical
character of the god who was as graceful as Apollo,
who shared wilh that divinity the dominion of Par-
nassus, and the faculty and glory of inspiring poets

with immortal verse. The joyous shouts of Viva
Bacco/ Viva la Vendemmia! the laughs and shouts
of the Bacchante, the songs and jokes of old Silenus,
were mingled with the beat and jingle of two or three
tambourines, with the rural sound of cow-horns, and
occasionally with the blasts of a cracked but antique-
looking trumpet, and with the clapping of hands and
shoutings of all the men and women, boys and girls of
the district. The Caecuban hills, which bore the fruit
productive of the generous wine which Horace extolled
as the drink of Maecenas— and which render as good
wine now, though all unknown to fame, as they did in
the days of Augustus Caesar — echoed and re-echoed
with the joyous sounds, for the scene of the festivity
was at tbp foot of those hills, on whose sunny slopes
the vines had ripened which furnished this happy
vintage.

When questioned as to how they arranged their
very classical procession, the peasants could only say
that they did as they had done year after year, and as
their fathers and grandfathers had done before them.
The Parocchiano, or parish priest, who thought it no
sin or degradation to follow the procession and partake
in the feast, did not appear to have much more learn-
ing on the subject.

THE GREAT SIDON.

The country of the Phoenicians, in which, at a very
early period, flourished a town thus emphatically dis-
tinguished, was of very limited dimensions even at the
time when the nation arrived at its highest condition
of splendour and power. It comprehended that part
of tne Syrian coast which extends from Tyre north-
ward to Aradus. This strip of land reached to about
fifty leagues from north to south ; but its utmost
breadth did not exceed eight or ten leagues. The
coast abounded in bays and harbours, and its breadth
was traversed by mountains branching from Libanus,
several of which advanced their promontories into the
sea. The summits of these mountains were covered
with forests, which afforded to the Phoenicians the
most valuable timber for the constiuction of their
ships and habitations. This explains how it happens
that the first time this people is brought personally
under our notice in the Bible is in the character of
persons skilled in the hewing and transport of wood ;
including, no doubt, much ability in the preparation
and application to various uses. When Solomon was
going to build the Temple, he communicated to the
king of Tyre his wish to enter into an engagement
for a supply of timber, knowing, as he said, " There is
not among us any that can skill to hew timber like
unto the Sidonians." The answer of the Tyrian king
is remarkable — " I will do all thy desire concerning
timber of cedar and concerning timber of fir : my ser-
vants shall bring them down from Lebanon unto the
sea ; and I will convey them by sea, in floats, unto the
place that thou shalt appoint me, and I will cause them
to be discharged there/' (1 Kings, v.) This was
speaking like a man accustomed to the business.

The waves, breaking violently against the steep
cliffs, seem to have detached several capes from the
terra firma, forming islands, which the Phoenicians
were not tardy in covering with numerous colonics
and flourishing towns.

In this tract of country the great city of Sidon was
founded. If it owed its foundation to Sidon, the eldest
son of Canaan, whose name it seems to bear, it must
have been one of the most ancient cities in the world.
This is the common opinion, supported by the authority
of Josephus. The town was, at any rate, very ancient :
it must have existed long before the time of Joshua,
for it is here called great— ?and a city must have time

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to acquire greatness. Some indeed Lave taken occa-
sion, from the expression *' Great Zidon," to conclude
that there were two Sidons — one much more consider-
able than the other ; but no geographer or historian
takes notice of any Sidon but this " Great Zidon." The
greatness of Sidon was the result of its skill in manu-
factures and of its attention to commerce. The skill
of the Sidonians in felling timber, and in applying it
to use, has been already mentioned. They built ships.
If they were not the first ship-builders and navigators
of the world, they were undoubtedly the first who ven-
tured beyond their own coasts, and the first that esta-
blished anything that can be called a maritime com-
merce. The Sidonians are said to have been the first
manufacturers of glass. Homer mentions them fre-
quently, and always as excelling in many ingenious
and useful arts, giving them the title of iro\vcai8a\oi ;
and. accordingly, all superior articles of dress, all
good workmanship in making vessels for use, and all
ingeniously contrived trinkets and toys, are ascribed
by him to the skill and industry of the Sidonians. —
Thus, the queen of Troy, intending to ofTcr a mantle
to Pallas,—

" Herself, the while, her chamber, ever sweet
With burning odours, sought. There stored she kept
Her mantles of all hues, accomplish "d works
Of fair Sidonians, waded o'er the deep
By godlike Pari?, when the galleys brought
The high-born Helen to the shores of Troy.
From these the widest and of brightest dyes
She chose for Pallas; radiant as a star
It glitter'd, and was lowest placed of all. M

Achilles, at the funeral games for Patroclus, pro-
poses, as the prize for the best runner, —

" A silver goblet, of six measures ; earth
Own'd not its like for elf gance of form.
Skilful Sidon i an artists had around
Embellish 'd it ; and o'er the sable deep,
Phoenician merchants into Lemuos' port
Had borne it, and the boon to Thaos giv'n."

When Telemachus expressed strong admiration of
the wealth and splendour, in gold and silver, ivory
and brass, which the palace of Menelaus exhibited, the
latter accounts for it by observing that his treasures
had been collected in his perilous wanderings, during
which he had visited the shores of Cyprus, Phoenicia,
Sidon, and Egypt. Lastly, in another place {Odyss.
xv.), a story occurs, replete with indications of the
character and pursuits of the Sidonians. At the island
of Syria, —

"It chanced that from Phoenicia, famed for skill
In arts marine, a vessel thither came,
liy sharpers mann'd, and laden deep with toys."

The sailors meet on the beach a woman belonging to
the family of the chief of the island. She wa3 —

" A fair Phoenician, tall, full-sized, and skill'd
J n works of ejegance."

And on being interrogated, she tells her country-
men, —

" I am of Sidon, famous for her wealth,
By dyeing earii'd."

In pursuance of a plot laid between them, one of the
men went to the palace, as if to dispose of Sidonian
wares : —

" An artist, such he seem'd, for sale produced
Beads of hright amber riveted in gold."

These indications concerning a people situated so
near to the Hebrews, and, in the cr.d, so closely con-
nected with them, are in no small degree interesting.
The superiority in manufactures and commerce does
not, ho waver, form the only distinction of the Sidonians,

for they were also great adepts in the sciences of their
time, particularly astronomy and arithmetical calcu-
lation. As might naturally be expected, under such
prosperous circumstances, trie people lived in ease and
luxury. For this they were early remarkable, as we
see from a comparison used in speaking of the town of
Laish : — " The people who dwelt in it were careless ;
after the manner of the Sidonians ', quiet and secure ;
and there was nothing to molest them in the land :
they possessed also riches without restraint." (Judg.
xviii. 7 — Boothroyd's version.)

Ultimately, however, Sidon was eclipsed, in all its
characteristics of superiority, by Tyre, which is called
in the Bible " the daughter of Sidon," it having been
in its origin a settlement of the Sidonians. Whether
the historical Tyre at this time existed is a question
that occasions some discussion. The text of verse 29
is certainly by no means conclusive on this subject,
into which we shall not at present enter further than
to observe that if the old continental Tyre of history
did at this time exist, it was evidently in its infant
state, in which it could not be mentioned in compari-
son with that " great Sidon " which it was in the end
destined to overshade. In support of the negative,
much stress has been laid upon the silence of Homer,
who so frequently mentions Sidon, but never Tyre. As
we have just been quoting Homer, we may observe
that there is nothing in this argument to rescue it from
the suspicion which usually rests on arguments drawn
from mere silence. Tyre existed and had a king in
the time of David, and in the time of Solomon was a
great commercial city ; and the time of Homer is from
one to two centuries later than the times of David and
Solomon.

Although Sidon lost its superiority under the pre-
dominating influence of Tyre, it long remained a place
of very considerable importiftice. Its general history
is so much connected with that of Tyre, that we shaft
not here mention it separately. Tyre is now a com-
plete desolation ; but Sidon still subsists as a town, and
carries on some traffic with the neighbouring coasts.
It is now called Saide or Seide. The inhabitants are
estimated at about fifteen thousand, who are chiefly
occupied in spinning cotton, which, with silk and boots,
shoes, and slippers of morocco leather, form the prin-
cipal articles of their trade. The port is now nearly
choked up with sand. The town rises immediately
from the strand, and presents a rather imposing
appearance as viewed from a distance; but the interior
is wretched and gloomy, ill-built, dirty, and full of
ruins. Outside the walls, fragments ot columns and
other remains of the ancient city may still be disco-
vered. The following remarks, from Mr. Jowetts
• Christian Researches in Syria,' respecting the country
between Tyre and Sidon, will be interesting : — " About
halfway between Saide (Sidon) and Sour (Tyre) are
very extensive ruins of towns which once connected
these two cities; but of these ruins thcie is scarcely
one stone left upon another. They consist chiefly ot
lines which show, rased even with the soil, the founda-
tion of houses — many stones irregularly scattered — a
few cisterns with halt-defaced sculpture on them ; and
at a considerable distance from the path there are at
one spot several low columns, either mutilated or con-
siderably sunk in the earth. These relics show — what
it needed, indeed, no such evidence .to prove — that m
peaceable and flourishing times, on this road, between
two such considerable cities as Tyre and Sidon, there
must have been many smaller towns for business,
pleasure, or agriculture, delightfully situated by the
sea-side : but peaceful security has long been a blessing
unknown to tnese regions."

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["January 28, 1W3.

Waives in Spam. — I eat down in the vent a where I put up :
there wu a huge fire, consisting of the greater part of the trunk
of an olive-tree ; the company was rather miscellaneous — a
hnnter with his escopeta ; a brace of shepherds with immense
dogs, of that species for which Ettremadura is celebrated ; a
broken soldier, just returned from the wars : and a b«gger, wn o,
alter demanding charity par las sitts ttagas ds Maria Santisstma,
took a seat amidst us, and iriade himself quite comfortable. The
hostess was an actire, bustling woman, and busied herself in
cooking my supper, which consisted of the game which I had
purchased at Jaraicejo, and which, on my taking leave of the
gipsy, he had counselled me to take with me. In the mean
time, I sat by the fire, listening to the conversation of the com-
pany. " I would I were a wolf," said one of the shepherds ; " or,
indeed, anything rather than what I am. A pretty life is this
of ours, out in the cumpo, among the carascales, suffering heat
and cold for a peseta a day. I would I were a wolf: he fares
better, and is more respected, than the wretch of a shepherd."
4< Hut he frequently fares scurvily,*' said I ; " the shepherd and
dogs fall upon him, and then he pays for his temerity with the
loss of his head." •' That is not often the case, senor traveller/'
said the shepherds : " he watches his opportunity, end seldom
runs into harm's way. And as to attacking him, it h uo very
pleasant task ; he lias both teeth and claws, and dog or man
who has once felt them likes not to venture a second time
within his reach. These dogs of mine will seite a bear singly
with considerable alacrity, though he is a most powerful
animal ; but I have seen them run howling away from a
wolf even though there were two or three of us at hand to
encourage them." " A dangerous person is the wolf," said the
other shepherd, " and cunning as dangerous ; who knows more
than he? He knows the vulnerable point of every animal : see,
for example, how he flies at the neck of a bullock, tearing open
the veins with his grim teeth and claws. But does lie attack a
horse in this manner? I trow not/' " Not he," said the other
shepherd, "he is too good a judge; but he fastens ou the
haunches, and hamstrings him in a moment. Oh ! the fear of the
horse when he comes near the dwelling of the wolf* My master
was the other day riding in the despoblado, above the pass, on
his fine Andalusian steed, which had cost him five hundred
dollars : suddenly the horse stopped, and sweated and trembled
like a woman in the act of tainting ; my roaster could not
conceive the reason, but presently he heard a squealing and
growling in the bushes, whereupon he fired off nis gun, and
scared the wolves, who scampered away : but he tells me that
the horse has not yet recovered from his fright.*' <! Yet the
mares know, occasionally, how to baulk him,*' replied his
companion : *' there is great craft and malice in mares, as there
is in females: see them feeding in the campo with their young
cria about them ; presently the alarm is given that the wolf is
drawing near ; they start wildly, and run about for a moment,
but it is only for a moment, — amain they gather together, form-
ing themselves into a circle, in the centre of which they place
the foals. Onward comes the wolf, hoping to make his dinner
on horse-flesh ; he is mistaken, however, the mares have baulked
him, and are as cunning as himself: not a tail is to be seen—
not a hinder quarter — but there stand the whole troop, their fronts
towards him ready to receive him, and as he runs round them
barking and howling, they rise successively on their hind legs,
ready to stamp him to the earth, should he attempt to hurt their
cria or themselves." tk Worse than the he- wolf," said the
soldier, " is the female; for, as the stuor pastor has well observed,
there is more malice in women than in males : to see one of these
she-demons with a troop of the males at her heels is truly sur-
prising ; where she turns they turn, ai:d what she does that do
they ; for they appear bewitched, and have no power but to
imitate, her actions. I was once travelling with a comrade over
the hills of Galicia, when we heard a howl : * Those are wolves, 1
said my companion; ' let us get out of the way :" so we stepped
from the path, and ascended the side of the hill a little way, to
a terrace, where grew vines, after the manner of Galicia : pre-
sently appeared a large grey she-wolf, deahonesta, snapping and
growling at a troop of demons, who followed close behind, their
tails uplifted, and their eyes like firebrands. What do you think
the perverse brute did f Iu&tead of keeping to the path, she turned
in the very direction in which we were : there was now no remedy ;
so we stood still. I was the first upon the terrace, and by me
she pasted so close, that I felt her hair brush against my legs :
she, however, took no notice of me, but pushed on, neither look-
ing to the right nor left, and all the other wolves trotted by me

without offering the slightest injury or even at much as looking
at me. Would that I could say as much for my poor com*
panion, who stood ferthtr on, and was, I believe, lest in the
demon's way than 1 was ; she had nearly passed him, when
suddenly she turned half round aud snapped at him. I shall
never forget what followed ; in a moment a dosen wolves wore
upou him, tearing him limb from limb, with bowlings like
nothing in this world ; in a few moments he was devoured,
nothing remaining but the skull and a few bones, and than they
passed on in the same manner as they came. Good reason luW
I to be grateful that my lady- wolf took less notice of me than
my poor comrade.'— The Bible m Spain, by Gtorg* Honow

Ripening of Fruit.— So long as the fruit it green it possesses to
a certain extent the physiological action of a leaf, and decom-
poses carbonic acid under the influence of light ; but as soon as
it begins to ripen this action ceases, and the fruit is wholly nou-
rished by the sap elaborated by the leaves. Tims the fruit has,
in common with the leaves, the power of elaborating sap, and also
the power of attracting sap from the surrounding parts. Hence
we see that where a number of fruits art growing together, one
or more of them attract the sap or nutriment from all the real,
which in consequence drop ofl. As the food of the fruit is pre-
jMired by the leaves under the influence of solar light, it follows
that the excellence of the fruit will depend chiefly ou the excel-
lence of the leaves ; and that if the latter are not sufficiently
developed, or not duly exposed to the action of the sun's rays, or
placed at too great a distance from the fruit, the latter will be
diminutive in size and imperfectly ripened, or may drop ofl
before attaining maturity. Hence the inferiority of fruits which
grow on naked branches, or even ou branches where there is uot
a leaf close to tlie fruit ; as in the case of a bunch of grapes,
wjjere the leaf immediately above it has been- out off, or in that
of a gooseberry, where the leaf immediately above it has been
eaten by a caterpillar. Hence it is evident that the secretions
formed by the fruit are principally derived from the matter ela-
borated iu the leaf or leaves next to it; and as the tap of all the
leaves is more or less abundant according to the supply received
from the roots, the excellence of fruits depends ultimately on
the condition of the roots, and the condition, position, and expo-
sition of the leaves.— Loudon's Suburban Hortteultnritt.

Couches in Yucatan. — I left Merida by coach for Campeachy.
It started at five o'clock in the morning with three passengers ;
an elderly woman and man, and myself, composing the load.
The team galloped off at the rate of iet\ miles an hour, and
changed horses every hour during the route. The coach was one
of four which were imported from Troy (U. £.), and, at a sam-
ple, was well worthy of the high reputation the Trojan carriages
enjoy throughout the United States ; but the horses and him^
were in shocking bad keeping. The driver was an Indian; bo-
sides whom were two other attendants, who were needed, for the
unskilful hands of the Indian and the wildness of the horses
made the vehicle go on all sides of the road. It was no uncom-
mon occurrence to be brought up against a stone wall at the side
of the road ; and, in one instance, we were foul of an Indian hut
which frightened the inmates to such a degree that they ran out,
supposing it to be an earthquake. By combining the skill and
strength of our whole party, we succeeded in getting the hones
and coach again upon the highway. We stopped at a village to
take breakfast, and passed through several towns ou the road, but
they afforded nothing worthy of remark. Tlie country through
which our route lay presented the same aspect as other parts we
had visited. The fields were still covered with weeds, to burn
which the proprietors of the soil were only waiting for dry wea-
ther. This is the only preparation the soil receives prior to sow-
ing it. The progress of the coach afforded us much amusement
by the flight which it appeared to occasion to all animated
nature in our way. This line of coaches had been only a short
time established, and its whirling along among people and cattle
had a similar effect to that a locomotive has among the animals
aud their owners iu the wilds of the far West. Nothing would
stand before it. Away went horse and rider, mule and packs, to
secure a safe retreat in the bushes, at. the alarmiug sound of our
approach. Our arrival iu the town brought out the whols popu-
lation, aud the Indians would come round the coach aching with
curiosity, their countenances expressive both of fear and admira-
tion. — Normans Ruined Citiss of Yucatan.

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

A DAY AT THE BRITISH NEEDLE-MILLS, REDDITCH.

[Needle-pointtr at work.}

Why arc needles made at Redditch J Why should a
beautiful and secluded part of the county of Worcester,
many miles distant from what are termed the " manu-
facturing districts," contain a village whose inhabit-
ants, one and all, live directly or indirectly by making
these little steel implements? The fact is demon-
strable, but the reason is not. The ^ood housewife who
mends her child's pinafore, the milliner who decks out
a lady in her delicate attire, the hard-working semp-
stress who supplies " made-up goods " to the shops, the
school-girl who works her sampler — all, however little
they may be aware of the fact, are dependent prin-
cipally on a Worcestershire village for the supply of
their needles. Their •Whitechapei Sharps' are no
longer made at Whitechapel, even if they ever were
so ; and though they may in some cases seem to ema-
nate from London manufacturers, the chances are that
they were made at Redditch. Not that other towns are
without indications of this branch of manufacture ; but
in them it is merely an isolated feature, each manu-
facturer gathering round him a body of workmen suf-
ficient for his purpose. But at Redditch, as we shall
presently see, needle-making is the staple, the all-in-
all, without which almost every house in the place
would probably be shut up ; for although there is a
fair sprinkling of the usual kind of workmen, shop-
keepers, dealers, &c., these are only such as are neces-
sary for supplying the wants of the needle-making
population.

It is a strange thing that the Redditch manufac-
turers themselves seem scarcely able to assign a reason

no. 695.

why this branch of industry has centred there, or to
name the period of its commencement. Indeed the
early history of the needle-trade is very indistincth-
recorded. Stow tells us, while speaking of the kind
of shops found in C heaps ide and other busy streets of
London, that needles were not sold in Cheapside until
the reign of Queen Mary ; and that they were at that
time made by a Spanish negro, who refused to discover
the secret of his art. Another authority states, that
" needles were first made in England by a native of
India in 1545, but the art was lost at his death ; it was,
however, recovered in 1650, by Christopher Greening,
who settled, with his three children, at Long Crendon.
in Buckinghamshire." Whether the " negro " in the
one of these accounts is the same individual as the
44 native of India" mentioned in the other, cannot now
perhaps be determined ; nor is it more clear at what
period Redditch became the centre of the manu-
facture. There are slight indications of Redditch
needle-making for a period of nearly two centuries,
but beyond that all is blank.

A reader who associates the Potteries with the clay
districts of North Staffordshire, and the smelting-works
with the coal and iron districts of South Staffordshire,
will naturally seek to know whether any features dis-
tinguish Redditch which will enable us to assign a pro-
bable origin for the needle-manufacture there. Let
him take, with us, a survey of the surrounding district,
and judge. Perhaps Birmingham maybe taken as a
centre to start from, being itself a chief seat of manu-
factures in metal. Weproceed to Bromsgrove, making

Vol. XII.-F

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[Janca&Y, 1843.

the Birmingham and Gloucester Railway our line of
transit ; for in these railroad days we are often obliged
to travel in a much more roundabout way to small
towns than when stage-coaches were in the height of
their power.

To Bromsgrove then we proceed, and soon find that
the iron and coal region is being left behind us. We
leave the smoking chimneys of Birmingham, and soon
get into the undulating and picturesque districts of
Worcestershire. For miles nothing like a factory or a
manufacturing town is to be seen ; green fields, ivy-
covered churches, and secluded villages have super-
seded them. On a commanding height an obelisk or
pillar, visible for many miles on every side, marks the
domains of the squire, the " great man " of the neigh-
bourhood ; while the outline of the Malvern Hills is
dimly marked at a distance. After descending the
famous ** Lickey incline/' where the railway elopes an
inch in a yard for more than two miles of length, we
come to Bromsgrove, an ancient market-town, which
serves as a centre for the villages around. We then
bid a farewell to railroad, to stage-coaches, to omni-
buses; we must cither trudge it on foot, or hire a
vehicle to traverse the six miles which separate
Bromsgrove from Redditch. Here we get still more
into the country, and marvel still more that a scat of
manufacture should be found here. We do not see
waggons laden with manufactured goods, nor work-
men hastening homeward to their meals ; but we see
women returning from Bromsgrove market, seated
on rough little horses, with panniers on either side
of them ; we see, too, cottages, whose white exteriors are
decked with black lines in a fashion very prevalent in
Worcestershire, and intended, we presume, to be orna-
mental. Fields and hedges, hills and valleys, diversify
the whole diHlfpce.

At length a turn in the road brings us within sight
of the village which we seek. Redditch lies spread
out before us, its red brick houses forming a striking
contrast with the green fields seen in the distance.
Among the houses met with on entering the village are
some of a superior order to the rest ; and these we find
on inquiry to be the private residences of the chief
needle-manufacturers, the men whose capital gives
activity to all the other inhabitants of the place. Soon
we see evidences of factory arrangements, in buildings
plentifully supplied with windows; and on advancing
farther into the village (for a village it still is, although
the inhabitants are now becoming numerous), we meet
with the dwellings of the workmen and the shops of
the dealers who supply their daily wants. A visitor,
in any degree accustomed to watch the progress of
manufactures, then naturally looks around him to seek
for any indications whence he may account for the
location of the needle-making : he looks for a stream,
or canal, or something which may be to the manufac-
ture in the relation of cause to effect ; but very little
of the kind is to be seen. Needle-making is nearly
all the result of manual dexterity, requiring very
little aid indeed from water or steam power. There
are, it is true, a few water-wheels employed in working
machines for 'scouring' the needles; but Redditch
presents no other facilities for this purpose than such
as are presented by a thousand otner places in the
kingdom. In short, there seems to be no other mode
of accounting for the settlement of the needle-manu-
facture in this spot than that which may be urged in
reference to watch-making in Clerkenwcll or coach-
making in Long Acre. A needle-maker, we will sup-
pose — say two centuries ago — settled at Redditcn,
and gradually accumulated round him a body of
workmen. A supply of skilled labour having been
thus secured, another person set up in the same line, —
Derhaps enticing away some of the men from his pre-

decessor. In time the workmen's children learned the
occupation carried on by their parents, and thus fur-
nished an increased supply of labour, which, in its
turn, led to the establishment of other manufacturing
firms. By degrees so many needles were made at
Redditch, that the village acquired a reputation through-
out the length and breadth of the land for this branch
of manufacture, and hence it became a positive ad-
vantage for a maker to be able to say that his needles
were " Redditch needles." This train of surmises may
perhaps approach pretty nearly to the truth. r

Let us, however, leave conjecture, and proceed to
facts. There are in Redditch about a dozen manufac-
turers, each of whom conducts the needle-manufactui'e
on a large scale, and employs a considerable number
of persons. The workpeople are of two kinds, dis-
tinctly separated by the terms on which their ser-
vices are rendered. Some work in factories, built by
and conducted under the superintendence of the master
manufacturers ; while others work at their own homes,
being paid according to the kind and amount of the
work done. In no occupation, perhaps, is the division of
labour more strictly carried out than in needle-making,
for the man who anneals does not point, nor does the
pointer make the eyes or polish the needles. Both
within and without the factory the same system of
division is kept up ; for a cottager who procures work
from a nccdle-manufacturcr does not undertake the
making of a needle, but only one particular depart-
ment, tor which he is paid at certain recognised prices.
Many of the workpeople live at a few miles distance,
and come with their finished work at intervals of a
few days; a plan which can be adopted without much
inconvenience, since a considerable quantity of these
little articles may be packed in a small space. It is,
we believe, estimated that the number of needle-makers
in Redditch is about three thousand ; and in the whole
district of which Redditch is the centre, six or seven
thousand, of whom a very considerable number are
females.

The general name of ' mills' is given to the needle-
factories, each one having some distinctive name
whereby it may be indicated. Thus the establishment
which we have been obligingly permitted to visit, and
the arrangements of which will be described in this
paper, is called the " British Needle-Mills." " What a
in a name?" We need not stop to inquire: it will
suffice to say that this custom is very prevalent in the
factories of the north, and no doubt facilitates the dis-
tinguishing of one factory from another. To the
" British Needle-Mills " of Mr. Thomas, then, our visit
is directed.

This factory has been recently constructed, and is
situated at one extremity of the village. It consists of
a number of small court-yards or quadrangles, each
surrounded by buildings wherein the manufacture is
carried on* The object of this arrangement seems to
be to obtain as much light as possible in the work-
shops, since most of the departments of needle-making
require a good light. Some of the rooms in the fac-
tory are small, containing only three or four men ;
while others contain a great many workmen, according
to the requirements of the several processes of the
manufacture. From the upper rooms of the factory
the surrounding hilly districts of Worcestershire are
seen over a wide extent, wholly uninterrupted by any
indications of manufacture or of town bustle ; and it
is while glancing over this prospect that one wonder3
how on earth needle-making came to speckle such a
scene.

The subdivisions of the factory correspond with
those in the routine of manufacture ; and we accord-
ingly find that, while some of the shops are occupied
by men, others contain only females, and others again

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lurnisn employment chiefly for "boys. We should 'sur-
prise many a reader were we to enumerate all the
processes incident to the manufacture of a needle,
giving to each the technical name applied to it in tf
factory. The number would amount to somewhe
about thirty; but it will be more in accordance wi
our object to dispense with such an enumeration, ai
to present the details of manufacture in certain grouj
without adhering to a strictly technical arrangement

First, then, for the material. It is scarcely nccessa
to Bay that needles are made of steel, and that the ste
is brought into the state of fine wire hefore it cj
assume the form of needles. The needle-makers a
not wire-drawers : they do not prepare their own wii
but purchase it, in sizes varying with the kind
needles which they are about to make, from Sbeffie
or Birmingham, or some similar town. We will su
pose, therefore, that the wire is brought to the need]
factory, and is deposited in a store-room. This roo
is kept warmed by hot air to an equable temperatui
in order that the steel may he preserved free frc
damp or other sources of injury. Around the wa
are wooden bars or racks, on which are hung the hoo
of wire. Each hoop contains, on an average, abo
twelve or fourteen pounds of wire, the length varyii
according to the diameter. Perhaps it may be co
venient to take some particular size of needle, ai
make it our standard of comparison during the deta
of the process. The usual sizes of sewing needles a
from No. 1, of which twenty-two thicknesses make i
inch, to No. 12, of which there are a hundred to i
inch. Supposing that the manufacturer is about
make sewing-needles of that .size which is knov
to sempstresses as No. 6 — then the coil of wire
about two feet in diameter ; it weighs about thirlei
pounds; the length of wire is about a mile and
quarter ; and it will produce forty or fifty thousai
needles. The manufacturer has a gauge, consistii
of a small piece of steel, perforated at the edge wiui
eighteen or twenty small slits, all of different sizes, and
each having a particular number attached to it. By
this gauge the diameter of every coil of wire is tested,
and by the number every diameter of wire is known.

A coil of wire, when about to be operated on, is
carried to the * cutting-shop/ where it is cut into
pieces equal to the length of two of the needles about
to be made. Fixed up against the wall of the shop is
a ponderous pair of shears, with the blades uppermost.
'The workman takes probahly a hundred wires at once,
grasps them between his hands, rests them against a
gauge to determine the length to which they are to be
cut, places them between the blades of the shears, and
cuts them by pressing with his body or thigh against
one of the handles of the shears. The coil is thus
reduced to twenty or thirty thousand pieces, each about
three inches long ; and as each piece had formed a
portion of a curve two feet in diameter, it is easy to
see that it must necessarily deviate somewhat from
the straight line. This straightness must be rigor-
ously given to the wire before the needle-making is
commenced; and the mode by which it is effected is
one of the most remarkable in the whole manufacture.
In the first place the wires are annealed. Around the
walls of the annealing-shop we see a number of iron
rings hung up, each from three or four to six or seven
inches in diameter, and a quarter or half an inch in
thickness. Two of ihese rings are placed upright on
their edges, at a little distance apart ; and within them
are placed many thousands of wires, which arc kept in
a group by resting on the interior edges of the two
rings. In this state they are placed on a shelf in a
small furnace, and there kept till red hot. On be-
ing taken out, at a glowing heat, they arc placed
on an iron plate, the wires being horizontal, and the

rings in which they are inserted being vertical. The
process of •rubbing* (the technical name for the
straightening to which we allude) then commences,

mt _ " 1 ^L - _. 1. ^ *_J A..1 - 1 '--g+m

oi iron or sieei, pernaps an men in wium, anu, in-
serting it between the two rings, rubs the needles
backwards and forwards, causing each needle to roll
over on its own axis, and also over and under those
by which it is surrounded. The noise emitted by
this process is just that of filing ; but no filing
takes place ; for the rubber is smooth, and the sound
arises from the rolling of one wire against another.
The rationale of the process is this : — the action of
one wire on another brings them all to a perfectly
straight form, because any convexity or curvature
in one wire would be pressed out by the close con-
tact of the adjoining ones. The heating of the wires
facilitates this process ; and the workman knows, by
the change of sound, when all the wires have been
' rubbed* straight. By the facility of the moving o*
the rings on the bench, the facility of movement among
the wires in the rings, and the peculiar mode in which
the workman applies his tools, every individual wire is
in turn brought in contact with the rubber.

Our needles have now assumed the form of perfectly
straight pieces of wire, say a little more than three
inches in length, blunt at both ends, and dulled at the
surface by exposure to the fire. Each of these pieces
is to make two needles, the two ends constituting the
points ; and both points are made before the piece of
wire is divided into two. The pointing immediately
succeeds the rubbing, and consists in grinding down
each end of the wire till it is perfectly snarp. This is
the part of needle-making wnich has attracted more
attention than all the rest put together. The surpris-
ing manipulation by which the needles are applied to
the grindstone ; the rapidity with which the grinding
is effected ; the large earnings of the men ; the ruined
health and early death which the occupation brings
upon them; the efforts which have been made to

F 2

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[January, 1843.

diminish the hurtfulness of tbe process t and the resist-
ance with which these efforts have been met — all merit
and have received a large measure of attention. Let
us first notice the process itself, and then the peculiar
circumstances attending it.

Some of the needle-pointers work at their own
homes, while some work at Hie factories ; but the pro-
cess is the same in either case. The pointing-room,
generally situated as far away as practicable from the
other rooms, contains small grindstones, from about
eight inches to twenty inches in diameter, accord-
ing to the size of needle to be pointed. They rotate
vertically, at a height of about two feet from the
ground, and with a velocity frequently amounting to
two thousand revolutions per minute. The stone is
a particular Vint} of grit adapted for the purpose ; but
sometimes it Hies in pieces, from the centrifugal force
engendered by the rapid rotation ; and in such cases
the results are often fearful. The workman 6its on a
stool, or ' horse ,' a few inches distant from the stone,
and bends over it during his work. Over his mouth
he wraps a large handkerchief; and as he can per-
form his work nearly as well in the dark as in the
light, he is sometimes only to be seen by the vivid cone
of sparks emanating from the Bteei while grinding.
The vivid light reflected on his pale face, coupled with
the consciousness that we are looking at one who will
be an old man at thirty, and who is being literally
"killed by inches" while at work, render the pro-
cesses conducted in this room such as will not soon be
forgotten.

The needle-pointer takes fifty or a hundred needles,
or rather needle-wires, in his hand at once, and holds
them in a peculiar manner. He places the fingers
and palm of one hand diagonally over those of the
other, and grasps the needles between them, ail the
needles being parallel. The thumb of the left hand
comes over the back of the fingers of the right ; and
the different knuckles and joints are so arranged, that
every needle can be made to rotate on its own axis, by
a slight movement of the hand, without anyone needle
being allowed to roll over the others. He grasps them
so that the ends of the wires (one end of each) projects
a small distance beyond the edge of the hand and
fingers ; and these ends he applies to the grindstone
in the proper position for grinding them down to a
point. It will easily be seen, that if the wires were
neld fixedly, the ends would merely be bevelled off,
in the manner of a graver, and would not give a sym-
metrical point; but by causing each wire to rotate
while actually in contact with the grindstone, the
pointer works equally on all sides of the wire, and
brings the point in the axis of the wire. At intervals
of every tew seconds, he adjusts the needles to a proper
position, against a stone or plate, and dips their ends
in a little trough of liquid between him and the grind-
stone. Each wire sends out its own stream of sparks,
which ascends diagonally in a direction opposite to
that at which the workman is placed. So rapid are
his movements, that he will point seventy or a hundred
needles, forming one hand-grasp, in half a minute ;
thus getting through ten thousand in an hour !

The circumstance which renders this operation so
very destructive to health is, that the particles of steel,
separated from the body of the Wire by the friction of
the stone, float in the air for a time, and are then in-
haled by the workman. The entire atmosphere of the
room is filled with these particles. Benevolent men
had long sought for means of obviating the sad effects
resulting from this operation ; and at length the Society
of Arts offered a premium for the invention of any
piece of apparatus which should prevent the entrance
of the steel particles into the mouth of the workmen.
A period of more than twenty-one years has now

elapsed since the contrivances of Mr. J. H. Abraham,
having this object in view, were introduced to public
notice through the medium of the above-named Society :
and it is really surprising to find how utterly useless
have been all the efforts to draw the men into the
adoption of improved plans. The fortieth volume of
the Society's 'Transactions' contains details which
must not be passed over here in silence.

In the month of August 1821, Mr. Abraham of
Sheffield sent to the Society a model of a mouth-guard,
to be used by the needle-pointers and dry-grinders.
He was not at the time aware that a premium nad been
offered by the Society on this subject ; but in October
of the same year he sent a second communication, in
which, among other details, he stated :— " The Society
may not perhaps be in the posseBsiou of the information
that thousands of individuals in this country, besides
the needle-pointers, who have been regularly employed
in dry-grinding, have been cut off at the age ot froai
thirty to forty years." After describing the nature oi
his apparatus, Mr. Abraham proceeds to remark thai
the needle-pointers and dry-grinders, " after the
grinders' asthma begins to afflict them, which gene-
rally happens to those regularly employed in dry-
grinding, when they arrive at the age of twenty-five
or twenty-seven years, linger out a miserable exist-
ence till they arrive at the age of thirty or thirty-five
years ; beyond the age of forty years very few dry
grinders are known to live/'

The apparatus consists of two parts. The first is a
screen, so suspended from the ceiling as to shield the
man from the greater part of the grit and steel-dust
set in motion by his work. The second is a mouth-
guard, to arrest tne progress of such particles as might
reach his lips. This mouth-guard consists of a small
frame of wood, the upper and lower pieces of which
are made circular to fit the lips. On this are fixed two
or three layers of crape or muslin ; and it is studded
with several small magnets, calculated to arrest a con-
siderable portion of the deleterious matter before it
can reach the crape. To the upper part of this wooden
frame is attached a bent wire, to which crape is fixed
for the purpose of protecting the nostrils; and the
whole is fastened by two strings passing ( round the
head and tying behind.

Such are the two pieces of apparatus contrived by
Mr. Abraham for protecting the workman not only
from the particles of steel, out also from the grit de-
tached from the grindstone during the process. It
may now be asked, how far were these contrivances
efficient? Let the evidence of the needle-manufac-
turers attest. The volume of the Society's 'Transac-
tions' before referred to contains several memorials or
testimonials, among which is one signed by several
surgeons, to the effect that the apparatus, completely
succeeded in arresting the particles ; the mouth-guard
becoming wholly coated with particles, which would
otherwise have passed into the mouth of the workman.
Another is a letter from the proprietors of a needle-
factory in Derbyshire, expressing their anxious wish
that these humanizing arrangements should be adopted,
and stating, among other things, that the needle-pointer
who used them most had " not more dust floating about
him in a whole day than he used to have in a quarter
of an hour." The third is a letter from Redditch,
signed by five needle-manufacturers and two pointers,
to the effect that the arresting of the steel particles
was successfully performed by the mouth-piece. A
similar letter was afterwards signed by nine of the
manufacturing firms at Redditeh, twelve of the
pointers (whose state of education may he guessed
by the fact that ten out of the twelve made their
mark X), and other inhabitants of the place.

Might it not Joe supposed that such contrivances

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would be eagerly caught *t by the men ? Such would i
seem to be reasonable ; for it is understood thai Mr.
Abraham bad no other motives than those of kindness
for promulgating his inventions. Yet has the whole
become a dead letter. We believe we are correct in
saying that the needle-pointers as a body, of whom
there are about a hundred and thirty at Redditch, re-
fuse to adopt these arrangements, perhaps that their
wages may not be lowered by rendering the work
less injurious. Their earnings sometimes amount
to so large a sum as a guinea a-day; and are at
all times considerably above the average of artisans'
wages. The handkerchief which is tied loosely round the
mouth of the needle-pointer is a poor safeguard. The
steel and gritty particles enter his lungs in abundance ;
and he is still, what he has ever been, a short-lived and
ill-conditioned man. It excites regret to see (as any
may see, without much difficulty), in the Museum of
the Society of Arts, the models of Mr. Abraham's in-
ventions, memorials only of the unwillingness on the
part of the workman to adopt a plan which is intended
for his own benefit, which is looked on favourably by
his employers, which society sanctions by its approval,
which would give him better health and a longer life,
and which would raise him in the scale of respectability
as a man.

We have dwelt somewhat at length on the process of
needle-pointing, because it involves matters of more
than usual interest in connection with the well-being
of those who are employed in it ; but we may now re-
sume the thread of detail.

The reader will bear in mind that the state of our
embryo needle is simply that of a piece of dull straight
wire, about three inches long (supposing * 6's ' to be the
size), and pointed at both ends. The next process is one
of a series by which two eyes or holes are pierced through
the wire, near the centre of its length, to form the
eyes of the two needles which are to be fashioned from
the piece of wire. A number of very curious opera-
tions are connected with this process, involving me-
chanical and manipulative arrangements of great nicety.
Those who are learned in the qualities of needles — as
that they will not 'cut in the eye/ and so forth — will
be prepared to expect that much delicate workman-
ship is involved in the production of the eyes, and they
will not be in error in so supposing. Most of the im-
provements which have from time to time been intro-
duced in needle-making relate more or less to the pro-
duction of the eye. In the commoner kinds of needles
many processes are omitted which are essential to the
production of the finer qualities ; but it will show the
whole nature of the operations better for us to take
the case of those which involve all the various pro-
cesses.

After being examined when the pointer has done
his portion of the work to them (an examination which
is undergone after every single process throughout the
manufacture), the wires are taken to the ' stamping-
shop,' where the first germ of an eye is given to each
halt of every wire. The stamping-machine consists
of a heavy block of stone, supporting on its upper
surface a bed of iron; and on this bed is placed
the under halt of a die or stamp. Above this is sus-
pended a hammer, weighing about thirty pounds,
which has on its lower surface the other half of the die
or impress. The hammer is governed by a lever
moved by the foot ; so that it can be brought down
exactly upon the iron bed. The form of the die or
stamp may be best explained by stating the work
which it is to perform. It is to produce the * gutter,'
or channel, in which the eye of a needle is situated,
and which is to guide the thread in the process of
* threading a needle/
' Hut besides the two channels or gutters, the stampers

make a perforation partly through the needle, as a
means of marking exactly where the eye is to be. The
device on the two halves of the die is consequently a
raised one, since it is to produce depressions in the
wire. The workman, holding in his hand several
wires, drops one at a time on the bed-iron of the ma-

chine, adjusts it to the die, brings down the upper die
upon it by the action of the foot, and allows it to fall
into a little dish when done. This he does with such
rapidity that one stamper can stamp four thousand
wires, equivalent to eight thousand needles, in an hour,
although he has to adjust each needle separately to the
die.

To this process succeeds another, in which the eve
of tile needle is pierced through. This is effected by
boys, each of whom works at a small hand-press ; and
the operation is at once a minute and ingenious one.
The boy takes up a number of needles or wires, and
spreads them out like a fan. He lays them flat on a
small iron bed or slab, holding one end of each wire
in' his left hand, and bringing the middle of the wire to
the middle of the press. To the upper arm of the
press arc affixed two hardened steel points 01 cutters,
being in size and shape exactly corresponding with the
* eyes' which they are to form. Both of these points
are to pass through each wire, very nearly together,
and at a small distance on either side of the exact cen-
tre of the wire. The wire being placed beneath the
points, the press is moved by hand, the points descend,
and two little bits or 6teel aro cut out of the wire,
thereby forming the eyes for two needles. As each
wire becomes thus pierced, the boy shifts the fan-like
array of wires until another one comes under the
piercers, and so on throughout. The press has to be
worked by the right hand for piercing each wire ; and
the head of the boy is held down pretty closely to his
work, in order that he may see to* eye 'the needles
properly. Were not the wires previously prepared by
the stamper, it would be impossible thus to guide the
piercers to the proper point ; but this being effected,
patience, good eye-sight, and a steady hand effect the

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[January, ie43.

[a is the lower die, on which the needles, 6. are placed, to Iw pierced
by the points, r, guided by the api«fatus, d.]

There are several processes about this stage which
arc effected by boys; groups of little incipient work-
men being distributed here and there, each group un-
der the direction of an older hand. Some have nairy
caps on, some cloth caps, some aspire to the dignity of
a workman's paper cap ; here is one with a pinafore,
there another who thinks he is man enough to wear an
apron ; some have eyes as sharp as the needles which
they are piercing, while others look as if they would
rather be playing at marbles or at 'hop-scotcn,' than
piercing needles at all : in short, they are true boys,
and, we doubt not, as fond of fun as any other boys.
Their earnings are from two shillings per week up-
wards, according to the importance of the work at
which they are placed and their skill in executing it.
In many cases those are the sons or apprentices of
workmen employed in the factory, who receive the
earnings of the boys, and arc responsible for the work
done by them ; in other cases the boys receive the
wages which they earn;

» Some of these little labourers take the needles when
they have been * eyed,' and proceed to ' spit ' them ; that
is, to pass a wire through the eye of every needle.
Two pieces of fine wire, perhaps three or four inches
in length, are prepared, the diameter corresponding ex-
actly with the size of the needle eye. These two pieces
of wire are held in the right hand, parallel, and at a
distance apart equal to the distance between the two
eyes in each needle-wire. The pierced needles, being
held in the left hand, are successively threaded upon the
two pieces of smaller wire, till, by the time the whole
is filled, the assemblage has something the appearance
of a fine-toothed comb. A workman then files down

the bur, or protuberances left on the side of the eye T//
the stamping.

It must be borne in mind that throughout all these
operations the needles are double ; that is, that the

Siece of wire, three inches in length, which is to pro-
uce two needles an inch and a half long each, is still
whole and undivided, the two eyes being nearly close
together in the centre, and the two points being at the
ends. Now, however, the separation is to take place.
The filer, after he has brought down the protuberances
on each wire, but before he has laid the comb of wires
out of his hand, bends and works the comb between
his hands in a neculiar way, until he has broken the
comb into two halves, each half * spitted * by one of the
fine wires. The needles have arrived at something
like their destined shape and size ; for they arc of the
proper length, and have eyes and points. In the an-
nexed cut we can trace the wire through the processes
of change hitherto undergone.
A D c D e p

[A, the wire for two needle*; B. the same, pointed at one eud ; C
{Minted ut l>oth ends; I), the stamped impress fur the ryut; K, the eyr*

Elcrced ; F, the medics lust before separation ; d, ?, f t e nbtrgumruU of
\ K V.]

But although we have now little bits of steel, which
might by courtesy be called needles, they have very
many processes to undergo before they arc deemed
finisher!, especially if, in accordance with our previous
supposition, they are of the finer quality. Tnere are
very many workshops which we nave yet to glance
through, the first of which is that of the * soft-straight-
cner.' The * filer* and his two 'spitters' (who together
get ready about four thousand needles in an hour) are
very likely to bend in a slight degree the needles
under operation; and, indeed, so arc likewise the
•stampers' and the * eye '-makers. To restore the
straightness of the wire is the office of the *soft-
straightener,' who is frequently a female. And here
we cannot refrain from remarking on the neat and re-
spectable appearance of the females engaged in the
needle-manufacture. Their earnings are on an average
from eight to twelve shillings a-weck (except the
youngest girls) ; and their appearance and general de-
meanour are creditable both to themselves and to those
by whom they are employed. The writer happened to
be passing through the main street of Redaitch at a

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time when the work-people were pouring from the
different needle- factories, on their way home to dinner ;
and 4n opportunity was thus afforded for observing
not only toe large number of persons employed in
this manner, but also the air of respectability which
generally pervaded them, — in which many of the ope-
ratives in the ' Great Metropolis' might imitate them
with advantage.

The * soft-straightener ' is seated in front of a bench,
near the front edge of which is placed a small steel
plate, On this plate the needles are placed, parallel or
nearly so : the straightener employed is a steel bar,
from a foot to half a yard long, an inch or two in
wid;h, and perhaps a quarter of an inch thick. It is
turned upwards a little at the two ends, so as to be
somewhat convex at the lower surface ; and is held by
boili hands at the two ends. By a curious management

of this instrument, the soft-straighten er separates each
individual needle from the group of which it forms a
part, and rolls it over two or three times with the lower
surface of the instrument, pressing it against the iron-
plate, and thus working out any curvatures or irregu-
larities which may have been given to it by the pre-
vious operations. It would seem much more simple to
place the needles, one by one, on the iron plate, and
roll them with the bar ot metal till straightened : but
a great expenditure of time would result from such a
plan. As it is, the heap of needles is placed parallel
on the iron plate, and by a slight touch each one is
separated from its fellows, straightened, and passed
into a tray beneath. So quickly is this done, that three
thousand needles can be thus straightened in an hour
by one person.

"The needles are by this time pointed, eyed, and
straightened ; but before they can be brought to that
beautifully finished state with which we are all fami-
liar, it is necessary that tbey should be 'hardened' and
• tempered * by a peculiar application of heat. After
being examined, to see that the preceding processes
are fitly performed, the needles are taken to a shop
provided with ovens or furnaces. They are laid down
on a bench, and by means of two trowel-like instru-
ments, spread in regular thick layers on narrow plates

or trays of iron. In this way they are placed on a
shelf or grating in a heated furnace. Wnen the pro-
per degree of heating has been effected, the door is
opened, and the needles are shifted from the iron tray
into a sort of colander or perforated vessel immersed
in cold water or oil. When they are quite cooled, the
hardening is completed ; and if it lias been effected in
water, the needles are simply dried ; but if in oil, they
are well washed in an alkaline liquor to free them from
the oil. Then ensues the tempering processes. The
needles are placed on an iron plate, heated from
beneath, and moved about with two little trowels until
every needle has been gradually brought to a certain
desired temperature.

We now leave the furnace-room and proceed to one
of the upper rooms of the factory, where a multitude
of minor operations arc conducted incident to the
finishing of the needles. Notwithstanding the ' soft-
straightening ' which the needles underwent after they
were pointed and eyed, they have become slightly dis-
torted in shape by the action of the heat in the pro-
cesses just described, and to rectify this they undergo
the operation of 4 hammer-straightening.' A number
of females are seen seated at a long bench, each with
a tiny hammer, giving a number ofTight blows to the
needles ; the needles being placed on a small steel block
with a very smooth upper surface. This is rather a
tedious part of the manufacture, the workwoman not
being able to straighten more than five hundred
needles in an hour, a degree of quickness much less
than that which we have had hitherto to notice.

We leave the tinkling hammers and follow the
needles to the only part of the manufacture which in-
volves apparatus otner than of a very small size. This
is the • scouring ' process. In one of the lower rooms
of the factory are twelve machines, looking like man-
gles, or perhaps more correctly, like marble polishing-
machincs, — a square slab or rubber working to and fro
on a long bed, stone, or bench. The object of this pro-
cess is to rub the needles one against another for a
very long period, till the surfaces of all have become
perfectly smooth, clean, and true. This is effected in
a curious manner. A strip of very thick canvas is laid
out open on a bench, and on this a large heap of
needles, amounting to perhaps twenty or thirty thou-
sand, is laid, all the needles being parallel one with
another, and with the length of the cloth. The needles
are then slightly coated with a mixture of emery and
oil, and tied up tightly in the canvas, the whole form-
ing a compact roll about two feet long and two inches
in thickness. Twenty-four rolls of needles being thus
prepared, comprising probably six hundred thousand
needles in all, they are placed under the rubbers of the
scouring-machines, two rolls to each machine. A
steam-engine (most of the Redditch factories, we be-
lieve, have watcr-weeels) then gives to the rubbers, by
connected mechanism, a reciprocating or backward
and forward motion, pressing heavily on the rolls of
needles, and causing all the needles of each bundle to
roll one over another. By this action an intense degree
of friction is exerted among the needles, whereby each
one is rubbed smooth by those which surround it. For
eight hours uninterruptedly this rubbing or scouring
is carried on ; after which the needles are taken out,
washed in suds, placed in new pieces of canvas,
touched with a new portion of emery and oil, and sub-
jected to another eight-hours' friction. Again and
again is this repeated, insomuch that for the very
finest needles the process is performed five or six-
times over, each time during eight hours' continuance.
This is one of the points in which the difference is
shown between various qualities of needles, the length
of the scouring being correspondent with the excel-
lence of the production. The pieces of canvas become

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[January, 1843.

coated within with a mixture of emery, oil, and steel ;
but the quantity of steel rubbed off in this process is
not so much as might at first be supposed.

Again we accompany the needles to another part of
the factory, being that which is technically termed the
' bright-shop,' in which many processes are carried on
in reference to the finishing of the needles. The
needles are examined after being scoured, and are
placed in a small tin tray, where, by shaking and
vibrating in a curious manner, they are all brought
into parallel arrangement. From thence they are
removed into flat paper-trays, in long rows or heaps,
and passed on to the ' header,' generally a little girl,
whose office is to turn all the heads one way and all
the points the other. This is one among the many
simple but curious processes involved in this very
curious manufacture, which surprise us by the rapidity
and neatness of execution. The girl sits with her face
towards the window, and has the needles ranged in a
row or layer before her, the needles being parallel with
the window. 8he draws out laterally to the right
those which have their eyes on the right hand, into one
heap ; and to the left those which have their eyes in
that direction, in another.

About this time too the needles are examined one
by one, to remove those which have been broken or
injured in the long process of scouring; for it some-
times happens that as many as eight or ten thousand,
out of fifty thousand»*are spoiled during this operation.
Most ladies are conversant with the merits of ' drilled-
eyed needles,' warranted " not to cut the thread."
These are produced by a modem improvement, where-
by the eye, produced by the stamping and piercing
processes before described, is drilled with a very fine
instrument, by which its margin becomes as perfectly
smooth and brilliant as any other part of the needle.
To effect this the needle is first * blued,' that is, the
head is heated so as to give it the proper temper for
working. Then the eye is • counter-sunk/ which con-
sists in Devilling off the eye by means of a kind of tri-
angular drill, so that there may be no sharp edge be-
tween the eye itself and the cylindrical shaft of the
needle. Next comes the drilling. Seated at a long
bench are a number of men and boys, with small drills
working horizontally with great rapidity. The work-
man takes up a few needles between the finder and
thumb of his left hand, spreads them out like a tan with
the ey?s uppermost, brings them one at a time opposite
the point of the drill, governs the handle or lever of the
drill with his right hand, and drills the eye, which is
equivalent to making it circular, even, smooth, and
polished. He shifts the thumb and finger round, so as
to bring all the needles in succession under the action
of the drill ; and he thuB gets through his work with
much rapidity. The preparation of the drills, which
are small wires of polished steel three or four inches
long, is a matter of very great nicety, and on it de-
pends much of that beauty of production which con-
stitutes the pride of a modern needle-manufacturer.

We next pass into a large room, where a multitude
of little wheels are revolving with great rapidity, some
intended for what is termed « grinding' trie needles,
and some for polishing. The men are seated on low
stools, each in front of a revolving wheel, which is at a
height of perhaps two feet from tne ground. All the
wheels arc connected by straps and bands with a
steam-engine in the lower part of the factory. A con-
stant humming noise is heard in the room, arising from
the great rapidity of revolution among a number of
wheels ; and it is not difficult for the ear to detect a
difference of tone or pitch among the associated sounds,
due to differences in the rate of movement. The
grinding- wheels are very small, not above five or six
inches in diameter ; they are made of gritstone, and

are attached to a horizontal axis. The grinding hers
alluded to is not such as might be supposed, relating
to the points of the needles, but has reference simply to
the heads, which have not yet had a rounded form
given to them. The workman takes up a layer or row
of needles between the fingers and thumbs of the two
hands, and applies the heads to the stones in such a
manner as to grind down any small asperities Tm the
surface. As the small grindstones are revolving three
thousand times in a minute, it is plain that the steel
may soon be sufficiently worn away by a slight contact
witn the periphery of tne stone.

The grinders and the polishers sit near together, so
that the latter take up the series of operations as soon
as the former have finished. The uolisning-wheels con-
sist of wood coated with buff leather, whose surface is
slightly touched with polishing paste. Against these
wheels the polishers hold the needles, applying every

Eart of the cylindrical surface in succession; first
olding them by the pointed end, and then by the eye
end. About a thousand in an hour can thus be polished
by each man; and when they leave his hands the
needles arc finished. A magnified representation of
the eye in different states will assist these details.

la, a needle with the eye end heed rough ; 6, the head filed end formed .
c, the eye countersunk ; d, drilled and finished]

We have still to see the needles papered. In one of
the rooms a number of females are cutting the papers,
separating the needles into groups of twenty-five each,
and folding them in the neat oblong form so well
known to all the users of a * paper of needles.' Sc
expert does practice render the workwoman, that each
one can count and paper three thousand needles in an
hour. The papered needles then pass to another room,
where boys paste on the smart-looking labels which
deck every paper of needles. Even here there are
sundry little contrivances for expediting the process,
which would scarcely be looked for by common ob-
servers. When the papers have been dried on an iron
frame in a warm room, they are packed into bundles
of twenty papers each ; which are further packed in
square parcels containing ten, twenty, or fifty thousand
needles, enclosed, if for exportation, in soldered tin
cases. As a means of judging the bulk of the needles,
we may state that ten thousand '6V form a packet
about six inches long, three and a half wide, and under
two in thickness.

Thus have we followed the manufacture to its close.
None but the finest needles undergo the whole of the
processes enumerated ; but we have wished to give
them as a means of estimating the complexity of the
manufacture of an article apparently so humble. The
arrangements of the factory, as to apparatus, &c., are
adapted to the production or a hundred millions of fine
needles per annum. As to the whole quantity made in
the Redditch factories and in the houses of the work-
men in the vicinity, it has been estimated at so high a
number as seventy millions per week! These are
startling results, and show that in considering the seats
of manufacture in England, we must not forget to
include the remarkable Worcestershire village of
Kedditch.

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TTTE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[A Urahmen expounding the Veda]

THE CASTES AND TRIBES OF INDIA.
No. II.

The Hindu account of the institution of castes has al-
ready been ^iven (No. 692), and it will be recollected
that only four pure castes arc recognised, the Brahmen
or priests, the Cshatriyas, who are soldiers, the Vaisyas
as husbandmen, and the Sudras as servants or labourers.
Heeren supposed that the first three were a foreign
race, who subdued the aborigines of the country, and
reduced them to an inferior caste. These four classes
constitute the elements of every society in an early
period of civilization. In England during the Anglo-
Saxon period the people would be found divided into
the same number of classes, but then the distinction
' was not hereditary. Plato ascribed the origin of poli-
tical association and laws to the division of labour.
From this cause, he says, men are obliged to associate,
one man affording one accommodation, another ano-
ther, and all exchanging? the accommodations which
each can provide, for the different accommodations
provided by the rest. Herodotus and Strabo state that
the Cokhians and Iberians were divided into four
classes whose rank and office were hereditary and un-
changeable. The Levites were an hereditary priest-
hood. Mr. Mill, in his ' History of British India,'
proves that amongst the Peruvians, the Medes, the

no. 696.

Athenians, and other people in very early periods of
history, the distinction of castes or classes existed. The
institution of castes marks a more advanced stage of
society than that which is constituted of families only ;
and it is a step not yet reached by the Arabs of the
desert, or the roaming Tartars of the ereat plains of
Asia. We may here remark that we have borrowed
the word * caste • from the Portuguese word « casta,*
which signifies a lineage or race.

Professor Wilson says, that every thing in the Hindu
Institutes indicates that the Brahmens originated not
from political but religious principles. " Apparently,"
he says, the system " was contrived by a religious con-
federation, as the scheme best adapted to introduce
order amongst semi-civilized tribes, and with no view
to their own advantage or aggrandizement, or enjoy-
ment of indolent ease. The authority of influence, of
advice, the Brahmens necessarily retained, and they
were the only competent expounders of the laws which
they promulgated. They had no other means of pro-
tection than the character of sanctity with which they
invested themselves, and which was equally necessary
to insure attention to their instructions. They la-
boured to deserve the opinion of sanctity by imposing
burdensome duties on themselves of a domestic and
religious character."

In the very rudest constitution of society the priest is

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to be found. In addition to the influence which he
professes to have with pood and evil spirits, he some-
times practises the medical art, and in various ways
sustains his importance by superior cunning, working
upon the superstition, ignorance, and tears of man in
his most abject condition. Nowhere has the influence
of a priesthood been so paramount and extensive as in
Hindostan. It is remarkable that the Brahmens
never invested themselves with royal authority; hut
Professor Wilson observes that this probably proceeded
from motives of prudence and policy, ai well as from
a feeling of true contemplative devotion, by which es-
pecially they retained their hold on the people. But
then, as Mr. Mill shows, their power was really greater
than that of the sovereign. The laws of Menu direct
that V To oue learned Brahmen, distinguished amon^
the rest, let the king impart his momentous counsel. *
As the sole interpreter of the laws, they in reality pos-
sessed the judicial powers of government as well as
those of a legislative character. The code was already
perfect and complete, as coming from the Divine Be-
ing, and in no case could it be interpreted except in
the sense the Brahmens were pleased to impose. The
king was little more than a servant of the Brahmens.
In order to have an adequate idea of the superiority of
the ancient Brahmen, we must refer to tne laws of
Menu, which were probably promulgated three thou-
sand years ago. Wnile the Sudra, the lowest of the
four castes, are represented as proceeding from the foot
of the Creator, the Brahmen came forth from his
mouth. He is declared to be the lord of all the classes,
and from his high birll) alone is an object of veneration
even to deities, and it is through him and at his inter-
cession that blessings arc bestowed upon mankind.
" When a Brahmen springs to light, he is born above
the world, the chief of all creatures." The first duty
of civil magistrates is to honour the Brahmens. " What-
ever exists in the universe is all in effect, though not
in form, the wealth of the Brahmen, since the Brahmen
is entitled to it all by his primogeniture and eminence
of birth." The sacred books aie exclusively his; and
while the other classes are scarcely permitted to read
them, be is appointed their sole expounder. For offer-
ing to give instruction to Brahmens, hot oil must be
poured into the offender's mouth and ears, and for con-
tumelious language the punishment is almost as severe.
Mysterious powers were assigned to them. " A priest
who well knows the law needs not complain to the
king of any grievous injury, since, even by his own
power, he may chastise those who injure him : his own
power is mightier than the royal power." Again, it is
said : " Let not the king provoke Brahmens to anger,
for they, once enraged, could immediately destroy him ;"
and it is asked, " What man, desirous of life, would
injure those by the aid of whom worlds and gods per-
petually subsist, those who are rich in the knowledge of
the Veda?" Extraordinary respect must be paid to
the most humble Brahmen: — "A Brahmen, whether
learned or ignorant, is a powerful divinity." Thus,
though Brahmens employ themselves in all sorts of
mean occupations, they must invariably be honoured,
for they are something transcendently divine." The
meanest Brahmen would be polluted by eating with
the king, and death itself would be preferred to the
degradation of allowing his daughter to be married to
him. The worst crimes scarcely subjected them to
punishment, though in other classes they were visited
with cruel severity. " Neither shall the king," says
one of the admirers of Menu, •• slay a Brahmen, though
convicted of all possible crimes." To confer gifts
upon Brahmens was an essential religious duty. These
gifts were a necessary part of expiation and sacrifice.
The noviciates to tne priestly office derived their
subsistence from begging. Possessing all the realities

of supreme power in the state, the Brahmens were, if

1>ossiblc, to a still greater extent the masters of private
ife. The Hindu ritual, as Mr. Mill remai ks, extended
to almost every hour of the day, and every function of
nature and society; and consequently, those who were
the sole judges and directors of its complicated and
endless duties could not but be possessed of an enor-
mous influence on the mental character of the people.
To the above extracts from authentic texts we must
append the following important note from Professor
Wilson's new edition of Mill's * History of British
India,' in which he observes that these texts are never-
theless calculated to give * wrong impressions.' He
says: — " The Brahmens are not priests in the ordinary
acceptation of the term, nor have they, as Brahmens
only, such influence in society as is here ascribed to
them. The Brahmens, in the early stages of Hindu
society, were an order of men who followed a course
of religious study and practice during the first half of
their lives, and spent the other in a condition of self-
denial and mendicity. They conducted for themselves,
and others of the two next castes, sacrifices, and occa-
sionally great public ceremonials; but they never, like
the priests of other Pagan nations, or those of the Jews,
conducted public worship, worship for individuals
indiscriminately, worship in temples, or offerings to
idols. * * * The whole tenor of the rules for the con-
duct of a Brahmen is to exclude him from everything
like worldly enjoyment, from riches, and from tempo-
ral power. Neither did the Brahmens, like the priests
of the Egyptians, keep to themselves a monopoly of
spiritual knowledge. The Brahmen alone, it is true,
is to teach the Vedas ; but the two next orders are
equally to study them, and were, therefore, equally
well acquainted with the law and the religion. Even
the Sudra was, under some circumstances, permitted
to read and teach. In modern times the Brahmens,
collectively, have lost all claim to the characters of a
priesthood. They form a nation, following all kinds
of secular avocations. And when they are met with
in a religious capacity, it is not as Branmens merely,
but as being the ministers of temples, or the family
'gurus,' or priests of the lower classes of the people,
offices by no means restricted, though not unfrequently
extended to the Brahmenical caste, and, agreeably to
the primitive system, virtually destructive of Brahmen-
hooa."

RESINOUS PRODUCTS OF THE PINE AND
FIR.

There is a singular variety in the resinous products
of the pine and fir, according to the species from which
they arc obtained, and the mode ot obtaining them.
Some result from a simple incision in the trunk of the
living tree ; some require a process of heat to obtain
them ; some are solid, some liquid. The best mode of
viewing the matter will be perhaps to take in suc-
cession the species which yield the best-known resinous
products.

The best turpentine, viz., that of Chio or Cyprus,
and which gives name to all the other kinds, is not the
growth oi* the pine or fir genus; but all the other
kinds, such as Venice turpentine, Strasburg turpen-
tine, and the common turpentine, are produced from
this genus. All turpentines are produced by making
incisions in the living tree, from which a kind of juice
flows out. The Strasburg turpentine is a kind which
is produced from the silver fir ; and Mr. Loudon's ac-
count of the mode adopted by the Italian peasants in
collecting it will well illustrate the general way of
procuring turpentine.

At about the month of August in every year the
peasants proceed towards the fir-forests on the Alps.

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They carry in their hands sharp-pointed pouches called 1
* cornets,' and tin vessels suspended from girdles round
the waist. Thus accoutred, they climb to the summits
of the loftiest fir-trees ; their shoes being armed with
cram ping-irons, like spurs, which enter into the bark
of the tree, and thus support the wearer. The resi-
nous fluid is contained in small tumours or blisters,
under the epidermis of the bark; and the peasant,
clinging to the trunk of the tree with his knees and
one arm, presses the sharp extremity of his cornet
against the little tumours. An incision being thus
made, the comet is soon filled with the clear turpen-
tine which flows from the blister. The man then
empties the treasure into the tin bottle slung to his
waist ; and proceeds to another tumour in a similar
manner. When the bottle is full, the turpentine is
strained into a large leather or goatskin bottle. This
straining is to free the turpentine from the leaves, or
moss, and bits of bark which may have fallen into the
bottle ; and this is the only preparation that is given
to this kind of turpentine, which is kept in the skin or
leathern bottles for sale. Good Strasburg turpentine
ought to be clear, free from impurities, transparent,
and of the consistence of syrup, with a strong resinous
smell and rather a bitter taste. It is employed, as
well as the essential oil of turpentine distilled from
it, both in medicine and in the arts. The essentia] oil
is distilled with water from the turpentine, and there
is left remaining a solid residue which constitutes black
resin.

The larch, which forms a particular kind of the
coniferae, is the tree which yields the ' Venice turpen-
tine' sold in the shops. Unlike the Strasburg tur-
pentine, this product is obtained from incisions in the
trees themselves, instead of from tumours or excres-
cences on the upper branches. When the sap of a
vigorous larch begins to be in motion in the spring,
drops of turpentine are often seen exuding from the
bark ; and if the trunk were split, it would in such
case be found to contain several deposits of liquid
resin, at eight or ten inches depth within the bark. It
is in the mountain-valleys between France and Savoy
that this kind of turpentine is principally collected.
The peasants of the valley of St. Martin, in the Pays
de Vaud, use augers nearly an inch in diameter, with
which they pierce the full-grown larches in different
places, beginning at a height of three or four feet
from the ground, and mounting gradually to ten or
twelve feet. They choose, generally, the south side of
the tree, and, where practicable, the knots formed by
branches which have been broken or cut off, and
through which the turpentine easily exudes. The
holes are always made in a slanting direction, in order
that the turpentine may flow out of them more readily ;
and care is always taken not to penetrate to the centre
of the tree. To the holes thus bored are fixed gutters
made of larch wood, an inch or two in width, and
about half a yard long. One of the ends of each gut-
ter terminates in a peg, through the centre of which
a hole is bored, half an inch in diameter. This
end of the gutter is forced into the hole made in the
tree, and the other end is led into a small bucket or
trough, which receives the turpentine. A very pic-
turesque appearance is presented in a larch forest, in
fine spring weather, by the vast number of little
buckets at the foot of the trees, each attached to a
tree by a slender tube or gutter, through which the
clear limpid turpentine, glittering in the sun, trickles
down into the Ducket ; while every morning and
evening the peasants hasten from tree to tree, examin-
ing their buckets, taking away or emptying those that
are full, and replacing them with empty ones. This
scene continues from May to September, during which
a. full-grown larch will yield about seven or eight

pounds of turpentine, which requires no other prepara-
tion to render it fit for sale than straining it through
a coarse hair-cloth to free it from impurities. It it
happens that turpentine does not flow from a hole,
the hole is stopped with a peg, and not re-opened for
two or three weeks; after which the turpentine is
found to have collected in considerable quantity. The
Venice turpentine thus obtained is clear, transparent, of
the consistence of a thick syrup, with a bitter taste and
a strong disagreeable smell. It is employed in making
varnishes, in veterinary surgery, and in various de-
partments of medicine.

The common turpentine, yielded by the Carolina
pine, is procured in a way somewhat different from
either of the above. In the month of January or
February cavities are made in the trees, at a few inches
from the ground ; these are incisions or notches, gene-
rally of a sufficient size to hold about three pints of
sap, but proportioned to the size of the tree. When
these cavities, which in America are called * boxes,'
are made, the ground is raked, or cleared from leaves
or herbage. The * boxes ' are intended to receive the
turpentine or sap of the tree, which generally begins
to flow about the month of March, and becomes very
abundant as the \yeather gets warmer. In order to
conduct the sap into the * boxes,' a notch is made in
the tree in the month of March, with two oblique gut-
ters to conduct the flowing sap. In about a fortnight
the box becomes full, and a wooden shovel is used to
transfer its contents to a pail, by means of which it is
conveyed to a large cask placed at a convenient distance.
The edges of the wound are chipped every week ; and
each box becomes filled in about three weeks. Long
continued rains check the flow of the sap, and even
cause the wounds to close ; and for this reason very
little turpentine is procured in cold damp seasons.
The turpentine which solidifies around the edges of
the incision is sold as an inferior kind, and a mixture
of the two kinds, known as Boston turpentine, is used
in the soap manufacture.

Burgundy pitch constitutes another variety of the
sap of the coniferae. This is obtained from the spruce
fir. The Burgundy pitch of the shops is the sap of the
spruce fir, clarified by boiling in water : hence its pro-
duction embraces the collecting and the clarifying. In
the early part of spring a vertical strip of bark, three
feet high by an inch or two in width, is cut from the south
side of eacn tree, as deep as, but without wounding, the
soft wood, since it is oetween this soft wood and the
bark that the sap flows. The lower part of the in-
cision is at about two feet from the ground, and is cut
inward so as to form a kind of cell or recess. As soon
as the sap is in motion, the sides of this groove begin
to be slowly filled with it ; and when filled, the con-
tents are scraped out with a hook-bladed knife. The
resin (for it may more properly be called so than pitch
or turpentine) is put into a conical basket or scuttle
made of the bark, and kept till wanted for manufac-
turing.

In order to bring this resinous sap into the commer-
cial form of Burgundy pitch, the peasants in the south
of France prepare large cauldrons, into which a little
water is poured. The resin is gradually added to the
water, till the cauldron is four-fifths filled. A gentle
fire is then lighted below, which is gradually aug-
mented till the water boils, and the resin is all melted.
The contents of the cauldron are next poured into a
bag made of coarse linen, which has been previously
wetted, and subjected to slight pressure. The resin
flows pure and clear into small casks made of fir-wood ;
and in this state it is the yellow Burgundy pitch sold
in our shops. In general, one hundred pounds of resin,
as collected froin the tree, yield fifty pounds of Bur-
gundy pitch. Trees grown in fertile soils are said to

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yield a greater proportion of reain than those grown
in poor soils ; and the pitch is of better quality when
the resin has been collected in a hot dry summer, than
in a cold and humid one. A strong and vigorous
spruce fir will yield, every second year, from forty to
fifty pounds of congealed resin ; and this may be col-
lected for twenty or thirty years, if no value oe set on
the tree except for its resin ; else it must be cut down
sooner, for it is found that the wood of a tree be-
comes much deteriorated after the sap has been drawn
from it.

Thus it will be seen that all these resinous products
are obtained by making incisions in the living tree.
The common resin of the shops, however, is not ex-
actly a natural exudation, for it is the solid residue ob-
tained by distilling common turpentine. Turpentine
consists, in fact, of two substances — an essential oil
and resin ; and the process which yields the essential
oil at the same time yields the resin. When the tur-
pentine is distilled, the oil comes over, and the resin is
left behind : if the distillation is continued to dryness,
the residue is ' black resin ;' but when water is mixed
with the turpentine while vet fluid, and incorporated
with it by agitation, the solid residue of the distillation
is *yellow resin/

Besides the lesinous products obtained from the
living tree, there are others of a peculiar kind obtained
from it after it is cut down. These are tar, pitch, and
lampblack. All the tar of the southern states of Ame-
rica is made from the dead wood of the Carolina pine ;
consisting of the trees which have fallen from natural
decay, or from hurricanes, or fires, of the summits of
those which arc felled for timber, and of limbs broken
off by the ice that sometimes overloads the trees.
When a pine tree is dead, the sap-wood decays, but
the heart-wood becomes surcharged with resinous
juice, which is productive of tar at any period for many
years after the vitality of the tree has ceased.

The mode of preparing tar from this tree in America
is as follows :— a kiln is formed in a part of the forest
abounding in dead wood. The wood is collected,
stripped of the sap-wood, and cut into billets two or
three feet in length and about three inches thick, a
task which is rendered tedious and difficult by the nu-
merous knots with which the wood abounds. The
next step is to prepare a place for piling the billets,
and for this purpose a circular mound is raised,
slightly declining from the circumference to the centre,
and surrounded by a shallow ditch. The diameter of
the pile is proportioned to the quantity of wood which
it is to receive, and in the middle is a hole, with a con-
duit leading to the ditch, in which is formed a recep-
tacle for the tar as it flows out. Upon the surface of
the mound, after it has been beaten hard and coated
with clay, the wood is laid radially round in a circle.
The pile, when finished, may be compared to a trun-
cated cone, ten or twelve feet high, and from twenty
to thirty in diameter. The pile is strewed over with
pine leaves, covered with earth, and held together at
the sides by a slight band. A fire is then kindled, not
at the bottom of the pile, for the whole mass would
soon be rapidly ignited, and the tar would be con-
sumed instead of distilled — but at the top, whence the
fire penetrates slowly downwards towards the bottom
with a slow and gradual combustion. It is to retard
the rapidity of combustion that the covering of earth
is laid on the pile. As the wood consumes, the tar
flows from it, and by the end of eight or nine days a
hundred barrels of tar may have flowed into the ditch,
from which it is emptied into pine casks containing
thirty gallons each.

In Scotland tar is sometimes extracted from the
roots of the Scotch pine, in a rude manner, for local
purposes. The country-people having hewn the wood

into billets, put them into a pit du$ in the earth.
When the billets are ignited, a black thick matter runs
from thern, which falls to the bottom of the pit, and
constitutes tar. The top of the pit is covered with
tiles, to keep in the heat, and there is at the bottom a
little trough out of which the tar runs like oil.

It is, however, from Sweden and Russia that the
main supply of tar is obtained. The species of pine
which yields tar in the greatest abundance is there
plentiful. Mr. M'Culloch states that more than a
hundred thousand barrels of tar were imported from
Russia and Sweden in 1831. The Swedish process of
tar-making has been described, and illustrated by a
wood-cut, in our No. 247.

Pitch bears nearly the same relation to tar that resin
does to turpentine : it is the solid residue obtained by
evaporating or distilling tar, and is obtained in various
ways, according to the nature of the pine or fir whence
it is procured.

Lampblack is the toot of burned tar. In France they
have lampblack-furnaces, in which a chimney carries
off the smoke from a fireplace into a chamber which
has an opening in the roof. Over the opening is
placed a flannel bag, supported by rods of wood, in
the form of a pyramid, and composed of four pieces or
coarse flannel sewed together. The best lampblack is
made by burning straw through which tar has been
strained. The straw and tarry refuse are put into the
stove, and kindled. The smoke passes from the stove
through the chimney into the chamber, where it de-
posits its soot on the walls and on the flannel bag ; the
soot is detached by striking the outside smartly with a
stick. The flannel pyramid sets as a filter to the
lighter part of the smoke, retaining the soot, and per-
mitting the heated air to escape into the atmosphere.
The door of the chamber is then opened, and the
lampblack, being swept out, is packed in small barrels
made of the wood of the spruce fir, for sale. Lamp-
black seems to have acquired its name from a mode
of producing it sometimes adopted in France. Black
resin is, in such cases, burned in a kind of lamp, having
a tin tube attached by way of chimney ; the end of the
tube is fixed in a close box, having an opening in the
top surmounted by a flannel cone.

It will thus be seen that— disregarding the common
commercial names applied to the substances — the re-
sinous products of the pine and fir may be classed as
of five kinds : viz., the turpentine* or juice of the living
tree ; the reein, or solid residue obtained from the tur-
pentine ; the tor, or juice of the dead tree ; the pitchy
or residue of the tar ; and the lampblack, or soot ob-
tained by burning any of these.

A Spanish Diligence. — The staff consist! of a mayoral, or con-
ductor ; of a zagal, or aid, who lit together on a not very elevated
seat; of a postboy, and a ebirro, which last sits behind. In
summer these all wear the genuine Andalusian costume ; but at
the present moment, covered as they are with sheepskins, they
look exactly like so many Robinson Crusoes, The team consists
of thirteen make, all bearing noma de guerre, which they will
retain to their death : they are all close shaved ; and the inex-
orable scissors of the gitano, which pass all over their bodies
twice a year, have left untouched only the end of the tail, at the
root of which are left two tufts of hair, looking exactly like
mustaches growing at the wrong end. This practice of shaving
the mules must tend certainly to their comfort during the
intense heat of summer, but in the cold and wet months of De-
cember, January, and February, it is far otherwise. The moles
are harnessed two and two, save the leader, on which the postboy
sits : the only reins are attached to the wheelers ; and the mules,
ten in number, between the wheelers and the leader, are as inde-
pendent as a tribe of Bedouins : habit only keeps them in their
place. — Dembowtkti Two Yean im Spam and ftrtugal; from the
Foreign Quarterly Review.

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[Nonsuch Tlonse.— From Speed's 'Theatre of Great Britain.']

PROGRESSES OF QUEEN ELIZABETH.

Jif the years 1559, 1560, and 1561, the Queen's Pro-
gresses were not marked by any peculiar splendour.
In 1559 she viBited Kent and Surrey. In June and
July she was at Greenwich, where, on the 1st of July,
the citizens of London entertained her with a •* muster,"
to her " great satisfaction :" fourteen hundred men at
arms marched out of London, " in coats of velvet, and
chains of gold, with guns, morris pikes, halberds, and
fla^s/' The citizens do not appear to have been pre-
cipitate in their movements. The first day they pro-
ceeded to the " Duke of Suffolk's park in Southwark ;
where they all mustered before the Lord Mayor, and
lay abroad in St. George's Fields all night. 1 he next
morning they removed towards Greenwich, to the court
there, and thence to Greenwich Park." Here they
were reviewed by the Queen and some of her attendant
nobles; and were drawn up in battle array against
each other, giving " three onsets in every battle. In
the record of the •' charge for the dinners " are some cu-
rious items : 6*. lOrf. are paid for three quarters and two
necks of mutton to bake venison-wise. (Were the citi-
zens to be thus deceived ?) ; 1** for a pint of rose-water
(an indication of their refined luxury, though it was
certainly not used for the fingers); 5*. for twenty
pounds of cherries (a large price, but the growth had
not been long introduced) ; and 1*. Id. for water to the
water-bearer (a striking proof of the defective arrange-
ments for domestic convenience, when a palace like

Greenwich depended for its water upon water-bearers,
even though, as is probable, the supply was from some
favourite spring for drinking purposes). Fourteen
capons cost 24s. &/. and fifty eggs 3*. Ccf., while nine
geese were only 10*. 2d. t and six gallons and a quart of
Gascon wine, 8*. 4d.

These military shows and exercises were greatly
encouraged by the Queen, it being her policy, as well
as her pleasure, " to accustom her nobles and subjects '
to arms." A banqueting-house made with " fir-poles,
and decked with birch branches, and all manner of
flowers, both of the field and garden, as roses, gilli-
flowers, lavender, marygolds, ana all manner of strew-
ing herbs and rushes," was erected in the park, and on
the 10th July there was exhibited running with spears,
after which was " a "mask, then a great banquet, and
then followed great casting of fire, and shooting of
guns till twelve o'clock at night."

This same year she visited Cobham Hall, the scat of
Lord Cobham, now that of the Earl of Darnley. She
next proceeded to Eltham, " one of the ancient houses
of the kings ;" and thence to " another of her houses,"
Nonsuch, of which the Earl of Arundel was then
keeper, and who received her on Sunday, August 5,
with banquets, a mask, and " the warlike sounds of
drums and flutes, and all sorts of music, till midnight ;"
on Monday night was a " play of the children of Paul's,
with their master Sebastian," and at the conclusion of
the entertainment *' the Earl presented her Majesty
with a cupboard of plate."

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Nonsuch had been built by Henry VIII. near Cheam
in Surrey, and was described by both English and
foreign writers as a building upon which "one might
imagine everything that architecture can perform to
have been employed." Henry had been fond of build-
ing, and displayed much magnificence in the construc-
tion, reparation, or completion of his palaces ; but, of
at least ten, Hampton Court is the only one remain-
ing in anything like its original state. Nonsuch has
totally disappeared, but several representations have
survived, from which, though more fanciful than cor-
rect in the requisites of drawing, proportion, and per-
spective, it3 elements may be very clearly understood.
Our engraving from one of these exhibits a part of the
palace towards the garden, the interior court and gate-
way being seen over the roof. Like some other sump-
tuous edifices of the period, it was partly of timber.
The relievos with which it was so abundantly decorated
were of plaster ; and from the description of Hentzner,*
a German, who visited England in the reign of Eli-
zabeth, we may infer, that not only were they of Ita-
lian workmanship, but that some might even be after
the antique. Of the interior we have unfortunately no
account.

*' The palace itself," says Hentzner, " is so encom-
passed with parks full of deer, delicious gardens, groves
ornamented with trell ice-work, cabinets of verdure,
and walks so emboweied by trees, that it seems to be a
place pitched upon by Pleasure herself to dwell in along
with Health. In the pleasure and artificial gardens are
many columns and pyramids of marble ; two fountains
that spout Mater one round the other like a pyramid,
upon which are perched small birds that stream water
out of their bills : in the grove of Diana is a very agree-
able fountain with Actaeon turned into a stag as he was
sprinkled by the goddess and her nymphs, with inscrip-
tions. There is besides another pyramid of marble, with
concealed pipes, which spirt upon all who come within
their reach. "There is scarce an unnatural and
sumptuous impropriety at Versailles," says Horace
Walpole, speaking of this magnificent though false
taste, " which we do not find in Hentzner's description "
of these gardens.t

The Queen left Nonsuch for Hampton on the 10th of
August, visited the " Lord Admiral's place," on the 17th,
and then relumed to Whitehall for the remainder of
the year.

In 1560 her progresses were unimportant. She left
Greenwich in July; visited Parker, the Archbishop of
Canterbury, at Lambeth ; went thence to Richmond,
Oatlands, Sutton, Winchester, and Basing, where the
Marquis of Winchester entertained her so splendidly,
that the writer of a letter to the Earl of Shrewsbury,
given by Lodge, says, that she" openly and merrily be-
moaned him to be so old, • For else, by my troth, if my
lord treasurer was a young man, I could find in my
heart to have hjm to my husband before any man in
England.' " From Basing she went to Windsor, and
here, and in Westminster, finished the year.

In 15G1, on the 10th of July, the Queen went from
Westminster by Mater, to the Tower, to visit the Mint,
where she "coined certain pieces of gold, and gave
them away to those about her." "About five o'clock
she went out at the Iron gate, and so over Tower-hill
unto Aldgate church, and so down Houndsditch to the
Spittle, and down HogVlane, and so over the fields to
the Charter- House ;" a circuitous route, but chosen
perhaps for the sake of going "over the fields." At
the Charter-House she remained till the 14th ; going,

* Travels in England, during the reign of Elizabeth, trans-
lated hy Horace Walpole, 1757.

f A part of the garden, with some of its ornaments, is
shown below the elevation of the front of the building in our
engraving.

however, on the 13th, " b>; Cleikcnwell, over the fields
unto the Savoy," to sup with Mr. Secretary Cecil, her
Privy Council, and many lords, knights, and ladies,
with "great cheer until midnight.*'

On the day of her departure into Essex the city made
a magnificent display ; the streets Mere new gravelled,
the houses hung with cloth of gold and silver, arras,
rich carpets, &c, and all the companies standing in
their liveries from St. Michael le Quern to Aldgate ;
the lord mayor and aldermen taking their leave of her
Majesty at Aldgate. In this progress she visited Lord
Rich at Wanstead ; the Earl of Oxford at Havering ;
Sir John Grey at Purgo House, also in Havering pa-
rish ; Sir Thomas Davey at Loughton Hall ; Sir Wil-
liam Petre at Ingatestone ; the mansion of New Hall,
or Beaulicu, built by her father at Boreham near
Chelmsford ; and several other private residences.
But at Colchester, Harwich, and Ipswich she was re-
ceived and entertained by the respective corporations.
At Harwich she was so well pleased with her recep
tion, that " being attended by the magistrates at her de-
parture as far as the Windmill out of the town, she
graciously demanded of them what they had to request
of her ; from whom she received this answer, ' Nothing,
but to wish her Majesty a good journey.' Upon which
she, turning her head about, and looking upon the
town, said, * A pretty town : and wants nothing ;• and
so bade them farewell.'* At Ipswich an assessment
was made to defray the cost of her entertainment,
but she docs not appear to have been altogether well
pleased at that town, though she remained there from
the 6th to the 10th of August Strype, in his Life of
Archbishop Parker, says that "her Majesty took a
great dislike at the imprudent behaviour of many of the
ministers and readers, there being many weak ones
among them, and but little or no order observed in
the public service, and few or none wearing the sur-
plice. And the bishop of Norwich himself was thought
remiss, and winked at schismatics." From Suffolk,
after visiting the Tollemaches, the Waldegraves, and
the Morleys, she passed into Hertfordshire, to Standen,
the residence of the celebrated Sir Ralph Sadler, and
from thence to the town of Hertford. There is no ac-
count of this visit in the records of the town, though it
is indebted to Elizabeth for a fair and a charter.
Here she remained from the 30th of August till the
16th of September, when she took her departure for
her own house at Enfield. This house had been bought
by Henry VIII. probably as a nursery for his children.
Edward VI. when Prince, resided here, and so did Eli-
zabeth. A letter of hers in the British Museum is
dated from Enfield, Feb. 14, but the year is omitted ;
and the dedication of a MS., a translation of an Italian
sermon, presented as a new year's gift to her brother
Edward and preserved in the Bodleian Library, is
dated from Enfield, but again without the year. She
seems to have had a partiality for the place, visiting it
so late as 1696, when she had «• butts set up in the park
to shoot at after dinner." On the 22nd Sept., 1561, she
"came from Enfield to St. James's beyond Charing
Cross. From Islington thither the hedges and ditches
were cut down to make the best way for her. There
might be ten thousand people met to see her ; such
Mas their gladness and affection to her. It was night
ere she came over to St. Giles's in the Fields." What
a contrast do these few lines present to the present
time : " the hedges and ditches between Islington and
Charing Cross," and the enormous number of " ten
thousand " meeting her, such was their gladness and
affection to her." The fields she then crossed are now
covered with. the dwellings of twenty times the number
of that assembled crowed.

* Dale's * Harwich.

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THE SULPHUR-MINES OF SICILY.

[From the ' Journal of the Statistical Society.']

Sulphur is found within the limits of a geographical
line which commences at the river Maccasoli in the
valley of Girgenti, runs northward as far as Lercara in
the valley of Palermo, trends eastward to Centorbi in
the valley of Catania, and thence runs south-westerly to
Terranova in the valley of Caltanizetta, where it termi-
nates. The area of the sulphur-district is about 2G00
English square miles. Destitute of timber, and diver-
sified only by fruit-trees scattered around the villages,
it has few charms for the passing stranger beyond the
fantastic shape of its cliffs and mountains. The man
of science, however, who examines its soil, will find it
replete throughout with objects of interest. The sul-
phur territory, the formation of which is tertiary, pre-
sents successive strata of shell, limestone, white and
blue marl, intermixed with banks or beds of gypsum,
and occasional patches of cretaceous matter. The sul-
phur is found imbedded in the lowest stratum of blue
marl, which is distinguished from the upper one by the
entire absence of shells. The district contains about
150 distinct mines, which are capable of yielding from
750,000 to 800,000 cantars (about 50,000 to 80,000 tons)
annually. Of the richest mines, those of Gallizzi,
Sommatino, and Favara, the yearly production has
been 100,000, 80,000, and 60,000 cantars respectively.

The visitor to a sulphur-mine usually descends by a
plane or staircase of high inclination to the first level,
where he finds the half-naked miner picking sulphur
from the rock with a huge and heavy tool; boys ga-
thering the lumps together, and carrying them up to
the surface; and, if water bo there, the pumpmen hard
at work draining the mine. A similar scene meets
his eye in the lower or second level. Abovepround
the sulphur is heaped up in piles or fusing in kilns.

Every stranger must be forcibly struck with the
hardy and healthy look of the miners and burners, to
whicn the lean and sickly aspect of the southern popu-
lation forms a thorough contrast. The life of a pick-
man, which is sometimes said to be hard and weari-
some compared with that of the peasant, is in reality
easy, and suitable to Sicilian taste. His working-days
do not exceed 250 in the year, and his hours of labour
are only six in the day. Left, therefore, with eighteen
hours a day to himself, he passes three-fourths of his
time in eatine, drinking, sleeping, and lounging about
his village. Satisfied with animal existence, the pick-
man seeks not intellectual pleasures at the cost of in-
creased exertion. His wages rise and fall with the
price of the mineral ; from Nkf. to 20d. a day for him-
self, and about half as much for each of his bovs, are
reckoned good earnings. The pumpmen are ill-paid
labourers compared with the pickmen. Their daily
toil, if lighter, is longer and less intermitted ; and their
occupation is productive of sickness rather than con-
ducive to health, Constantly drawing in sulphuretted
hydrogen gas* which escapes from the agitated water,
they suffer so severely in their eyes as often to become
blind for 24 hours. They work for eight hours a day,
and earn from 1*. to 1*. Ad. each. The burners, who
extract the sulphur by fusing the ore in kilns made of

?;ypsuni and stone, or sometimes in close vessels or
u maces, usually earn about 1$. a day.
The sulphur thus obtained by liquation, when har-
dened into cakes, is taken down to the coast by carriers
and muleteers. These are mostly small farmers, who
are paid by the load, according to the time of the year
and the demand for their services. Being seldom
trustworthy people, these carriers are engaged by a
warranter, wno, for less than \d. a can tar, becomes
answerable for the safe delivery of the sulphur at the
shipping-place. To Palermo and Catania the sulphur

is conveyed in carts ; to the southern ports it is carried
down on mules and asses.

Such is the working part of a mining establishment.
The overlookers are mining-captains, clerks, and a
manager. The mining-captain, chosen from among
the pickmen for his knowledge of the mine, examines
the veins and directs the operation. As the right-hand
man of the manager, he is looked upon by the pickmen
and others as a person whose good opinion it is worth
while to cultivate. Living in a substantial and com-
modious house, and dressing in a neat and becoming
manner on Sundays and holidays, he holds a respect-
able place in village society. He usually resides a few
miles from the works ; but in some cases he dwells
at the mine, where he is required to be in constant at-
tendance from morning till night. His wages are
from 2s. to 4*. a day ; but many unlawful perquisites
raise his earnings to a higher amount. After a few
years* constant employment in a rich and extensive
mine, he is usually able to retire with a competence
sufficient for his limited wants. The clerks and watch-
men, who keep account of piece-work and labourers'
time, who receive the fused sulphur and weigh it out
to the carriers, and who reside at the mine to take
care of the works, usually earn from Is. Sd. to 2s. Sd.
a-day. The manager or nead agent acts as treasurer
and trustee for the owners or lessees of the miue.
Aided by the mining-captain and the clerks, he en-,
gages and pays the workmen, and keeps the general
accounts. His salary is from 4s. to 6*. Sd. a day. His
gains are perhaps double this amount : so that he often
makes his fortune in the course of a few years.

The number of persons regularly employed in the
sulphur mines has been estimated at 4400 : viz. 1300
pic k men, 2600 boys, 300 burners, and 200 clerks and
others ; to which if 3G00 persons occasionally em-
ployed, viz. 2600 carriers, and 1000 wharfingers, bo
added, the total amount will be 8000 persons more or
less engaged in the extraction of ore and the exporta-
tion of sulphur. A small portion of the sulphur car-
ried down to Girgenti serves for the use of a royal re-
finery, whence it is exported to France and Austria in
powder and in rolls. Previous to the sulphur contract
the chief part was sent in cakes to England, France,
Holland, Russia, and the United States, in the propor-
tion of three-sixths to England, two-sixths to France,
and the rest to other countries.

In the Sicilian market sulphur is divided into first,
second, and third qualities of Licata (each of which is
subdivided into best, good, and current), and into first
and second quality of Girgenti, with the like subdi-
visions. The first and second qualities of Girgenti
correspond with the second and third of Licata.

In former times, when the use of sulphur was con-
fined to medicinal purposes and the manufacture of
gunpowder, the exportation was small ; but as soon as
the mineral was applied to the making of carbonate of
soda, the amount became considerable. The exporta-
tion from 1832 to 1838 was as follows :—

Year 1832 . . . 400,890 Cantars.

1833 . . . 495,769

1*31 . . . 670,413

183.) . . . 661,775

1830 . . . 855,376

1S37 . . • 764,241

1838 (7 Months) . 1,011591

Total . . 4,866,058 = 374,312 Tons,
being at the rate of 739,140 cantars, or 56,857 tons, per
annum. [Since this period the exports have been
gp-eatly varied in consequence of government regula-
tions interfering with the commercial disposal of sul-
phur, and which have hardly yet ceased to operate ; so
that further returns would only give a fallacious re-
presentation.]

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[February 4,

THE ETRUSCAN ANTIQUITIES OF THE
BRITISH MUSEUM.

Living in a country which produced in abundance,
and with little labour, all the means of enjoying life,
the Etrurians appear to have abandoned themselves to
ease and pleasure. Servile duties were committed to
serfs, while their masters enjoyed the luxuries pro-
cured by their labour, and sat down twice a day to well-
loaded tables, a custom which surprised the intellectual
Greeks. Embroidered carpets, silver plate, trains of
richly-clad slaves, gratified their taste for display and
magnificence. Music, dancing, the theatre, heroic
legends, and literature, gave some elevation to their
more sensual enjoyments. Their life of easy enjoy-
ment was varied by public games, horse and chariot
races, and by the sports of the field. It is Niebuhr
who says that, undoubtedly, Greek poems were fami-
liar to the Etrurians, and the subjects of Greek my-
thology, and the legends of Thebes and Ilium, lived in
the speech of the nation, and in poems in the native
tongue. Stringed instruments arc figured on the
vases ; but the proper native instrument was the flute.
Well might their legends refer to Etruria as the chosen
and favourite land of the gods. There abounded all
that ministered to heathen happiness.

Niebuhr terms the Etrurians a "priest-ridden"
people. The secret of the priesthood, whom he cha-
racterises as a " warlike sacerdotal caste, like the Chal-
deans," was the interpretation of lightning. This and
other branches of divination, as reading fate in the
entrails of victims, and perhaps in the flight of birds,
was taught in schools. Their knowledge of medicine,
physic, and astronomy was neither borrowed from the
Greeks nor Carthaginians, but is believed to have
been indigenous, and brought with them from the
north, when they conquered a more ancient people,
and established themselves in their country. The
Etrurian mode of determining time was extremely
accurate, and based on the same principles as the com-
putation observed by the ancient Mexicans.

The political state of Etruria is less obscure than
some other portions of its history. There were cer-
tain sovereign cities, and the territory belonging to
each contained provincial towns, some of them de-
pendent colonies, others inhabited by subjects, the de-
scendants of the old population that bad been sub-
dued. " Now," says Nieouhr, " because the Etruscan
state was founded on conquest, hence arose the multi-
tude of clients attached to the Etruscan nobility ;
hence the task-labourers, without whom the colossal
works of the ruling people could scarcely have been
raised. The Roman relation between patron and client
was the feudal system in its noblest form ; but even
supposing that among the Etruscans a similar law of
conscience bound the patron and protected the client,
still it was on the free plebeian estate that the greatness
of Rome rested ; and none such, it is evident, existed
in any Etruscan city. ... It was not by popular
assemblies, nor even by deliberations of a numerous
senate, but by meetings of the chiefs of the land, the
magnates, that the general affairs of the nation were
decided upon : we must not imagine that the assemblies
at the temple of Voltumna were of any other kind, or
that they corresponded with the institutions of really
free nations, such as the Latins and Samnites. These
ruling houses," he adds, " were exposed to the violent
revolutions which everywhere threaten an oligarchy,
even from the midst of its own body, where it is not
upheld by some powerful protection from without, open
or dissembled ;" and then the philosophical historian
points out the consequence of isolated power. " Now,
from this source, because a free and respectable com-
monalty was never formed among the Etruscans, but

the old feudal system was obstinately retained and ex-
tended, arose the remarkable weakness of the great
Etruscan cities in the Roman wars, when the victory
was determined by a numerous stout infantry." Hence
their cities were successively crushed by the power of
Rome, and, as already stated, the towns, with their terri-
tories, were parcelled out among the legions.

We have no detailed account of the method pursued
by the Etruscans in the manufacture of their vases,
but D'Hancarville, in his * Antiquitcs Etrusques,' has
collected remarks in various ancient authors, from
which he has attempted an account of their procedure,
which may be briefly summed up as follows : — u The
clay, which is of a very fine quality, they procured from
the banks of the Vulturnus, a river of Capua, and,
placing it in water, they allowed it to remain until it
had become sufficiently pliant to be moulded into any
form. They then, by means of the • potter's wheel,'
moulded the clay to the shape required, and while it
was still wet a coating of iron ochre was applied,
which, when heated at the last stage of the process,
produced the black colour which generally forms the
ground of the vases. The painter then drew in the
ground of the figures ; and as he did not exercise his
art on a plane surface, but on one which was consider-
ably curved, and was obliged, moreover, to keep the
vases upright, as, in the plastic state in which they
were at this period of their manufacture, their own
weight, if placed sideways, would tend to alter their
form, we may judge of the great difficulty he had to
encounter in producing a continuous and even line.
The borders and ornaments now appear to have been
put in, and then the vase was placed in a furnace,
where the colours were burnt in, and the whole com-
pleted."

fEtrufcan Vase.]

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[Mole— To/pa Btropcea.)

CURIOSITIES OF BRITISH NATURAL
HISTORY.

HOLES.

Though rains and driving sleets "deform the day de-
lightless," though "winter lingers on the budding
bush," yet will not the field-naturalist, he who loves to
observe for himself the progress of vegetation, and the
habits and instincts of living things, deem the present
month destitute of interest ; and as he wends his way
over greening fields, by thorny brakes, and tangled
woods, he will observe many objects, and note many
•' unconsidered trifles," to him full of interest or in-
struction. Among these, the results of the labours of
that " goodman delver," the mole, will not be over-
looked.

The mole, like the rook, has its advocates and its
opponents — one party regarding it as benefiting the
agriculturist by its mining operations, another party
accusing it as the author of extensive mischief. The
benefits and the injuries produced by this little animal
may be at once appreciated when we come to investi-
gate its habits, instincts, and general economy. We
need not say that the mole is a miner, living an al-
most exclusively subterranean life, ever pursuing its
a through the soil, and working out long galleries
e chase. In accordance with its destined habits is
the whole of its structural development. No one ex-
amining the external conformation and internal struc-
ture of the mole could err in his inferences. We may
observe that the body is cylindrical and compact ; the
snout prolonged and pointed ; the limbs very short ;
the anterior pair present a thick, contracted arm, ter-
minating in broad solid paws, with five fingers scarcely
divided, and armed with strong flat nails. The tour-
nure of these scrapers, for such they are, gives them
an obliquely outward position, and facilitates their use
as scooping instruments, by which the soil is not only

no. 697.

dug up, but thrown backwards at each stroke, and that
with great energy. The hinder limbs are small, and
the feet feeble in comparison with the anterior scrapers;
while the body tapers to them from the chest and
shoulders, so the hinder quarters offer no impediment
to the animal's progress through its narrow galleries.
The fur, moreover, is such as best befits a subterranean
dweller — it is extremely close, fine, short, and smooth,
and resembles the nap of black velvet. There is no
external conch to the organs of hearing, the sense of
which is acute in the extreme; a simple auditory
opening, capable of being closed or dilated at pleasure,
leads to the internal apparatus, which is effectually
defended from the intrusion of particles of earth or
sand. At a cursory glance the mole appears to be
destitute of eyes; they are, however, not wanting,
though very small, and buried in the fur. A limited
power of vision is sufficient for this dweller in the
dark ; the mole, however, can see better than might
be imagined. By a peculiar muscular contrivance it
is capable of bringing forward, or of drawing in, the
eye — and this, when withdrawn, is enveloped in and
defended by the close fur ; so that, as is the case with
the ear, no particles of earth can injure it. We have
said that the sense of hearing is exquisite ; and to it
the mole trusts for warning on the approach of dan-
ger :—

" Pray you, tread softly, that tbe blind mole may not
Hear a foot fall. 1 * — Shakspere.

But the sense of smell is equally delicate ; and by (his
it is guided in its search for food. It bores its long
sharp nose in the earth as it traverses its galleries, and
immediately detects worms and the larvae of insects,
which constitute its chief food. Nor is the feeling of
this part at a low ratio : it is, on the contrary, very
acute and susceptible, and aids the sense of smell in the
procuring of food. The pointed snout is, indeed, a

Vol. XII.-H

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f February 11,

finger-like organ of prehension, as well as a boring
instrument. The general skin of the body is strong
and tough, and not easily torn or lacerated.

When we examine the osseous and muscular deve-
lopment of the mole, we find a perfect correspondence
with its external characters ana the perfection of its
senses. The great development of the skeleton is
anteriorly, namely, in the bones of the shoulders, arms,
and chest. The skull is depressed above, elongated,
and pointed; and the snout, continued beyond the
maxillary and nasal bones, is supported by a little
additional bone, produced by the ossification of the
cartilage. Its boring faculties are rendered still more
effective by the ossified condition of the ligament of
the neck, which passes from the back of the skull,
down the cervical vertebrae, and which in other animals
is clastic. The power of pushing with the snout is
thus increased, and the strain upon the neck more
easily borne. The muscles of the neck, which act on
this bone and on the head, are very voluminous. The
ribs are strong, and the capacity of the chest consider-
able. From the breast-bone an additional portion
advances forwards, having a deep keel, as we see in
birds, for the attachment of the enormous pectoral
muscles, the force of which is employed upon the fore-
limbs, in the act of excavating the earth. The collar-
bones are thick and short ; the blade-bone, or scapula,
is long and narrow ; the humerus is angular, and as
broad as it is long ; the bones of the fore-arm are strong
and thick, and the olecranon of the ulna is large and
transverse, for the insertion of voluminous muscles.
The bones of the broad solid hands are compacted
firmly together, and form an unyielding mass ; and an
additional laternal bone of large dimensions and com-
pressed form, convex on its outer aspect, extending
from the radius to the first metacarpal bone, not only
enlarges the breadth of the hand, but adds to its firm-
ness and solidity. The anterior limbs are thrown as
far forward as possible, for it is to the projecting por-
tion of the sternum that the clavicles are affixed, and
the enormous pectoral muscles are inserted into the
humerus as low down as possible. Their action is to
bring the arm backward, the palms of the hands being
turned obliquely outwards. The muscles of the
scapula are distinguished rather for length than
volume ; they are elevators of the humerus, and their
office requires celerity more than power, in order that
the process of burrowing may be conducted with the
'east lapse of time between each stroke. As excava-
ting instruments the fore-limbs and scrapers of the mole
cannot be exceeded. Thus, then, in outward endow-
ments and in internal structure, as well as in the per-
fection of its senses, is this animal fitted for its labori-
ous operations, which cease not but with its life. We
have alluded to worms and the larvae of insects as
constituting the food of the mole, and we shall find its
teeth, which are small, exhibiting a decidedly insec-
tivorous character; the molars being crowned with
sharp-pointed tubercles or eminences.

From this very general glance at the organization
of the mole, let us proceed to an investigation of its
habits and modes of life.

** Well said, old mole j— canst work in the earth
So fast t — A worthy pioneer."— Shakspere.

It is to M. Henri le Court, who, when the French
Revolution broke forth with all the excesses an infu-
riated populace can be imagined to commit, retired into
the country, and there, remote from scenes of devasta-
tion and bloodshed, devoted himself to the study of this
animal, that we are indebted for the most interesting
facts in its history.

The discoveries which weTe made by this observer
were published in 1803, by M . Cadel de Vaux, and in

a compressed form by M. Geoffroy St. Hilaire, in his
4 Cours d'Histoire Naturelle.'

It would appear that the subterranean labours of the
mole are exerted in the accomplishment of very dif-
ferent objects. Each mole may be said to have its
own district or manor, its hunting-ground, and its
lodges; and this ground is traversed by high-road
tunnels, through which it travels from one part to
another, all branching off from a central fortress— its
ordinary residence, which is, however, not only distinct,
but often remote from the chamber in which the nest
is made and the young reared. We will begin by
describing the fortress, or ordinary domicile: — This
fortress is constructed under a hillock of considerable
size (not one of those which we ordinarily see, and
which, thrown up every night, indicate its hunting ex-
cursions). This hillock is raised in some secure place,
where a high bank, the roots of a tree, or the base of a
wall, afford protection. The earth formmg this mound
is well compacted together, and made solid by the
labours of the architect; and within this firm-set
mound is a complex arrangement of galleries and
passages of communication. First, a circular gallery
occupies the upper portion of the mound, and this
communicates by means of five descending passages
with another, and with a gallery at the base of the
mound, and enclosing a larger area. These passages
are nearly at equal distances. Within the area of this
lower gallery is a chamber, not immediately communi-
cating with it, but with the upper gallery, by three
abruptly descending tunnels, so that to get into the
basal gallery the mole has first to ascend to the top
gallery, and from that descend into the lower gallery.
This chamber is the dormitory of the mole. From the
basal gallery opens a high-road tunnel, which is carried
out in a direct line to the extent of the manor over
which the individual presides, and from the bottom of
the central chamber a passage descends, and then
sweeping upwards joins this main road at a little dis-
tance from the hillock ; so that the mole can enter the
high-road either from its dormitory or from the basal
gallery. Besides the high-road eight or nine other
tunnels are carried out from the basal gallery ; they
are of greater or less extent, and wind round more or
lees irregularly, opening into the high-road at various
distances from the hillock : these irregular tunnels the
mole is continually extending in quest of prey ; throw-
ing up the soil above the turf, through boles which it
makes for the purpose, and which form the ordinary
mole-hills which we often see crowded thickly together.
The high or main road exceeds in diameter the body of
the mole, and is solid and well trodden, with smooth
sides ; its depth varies, according to the quality of the
soil, instinct directing the little excavator in his work.
Ordinarily it is five or six inches below the surface, but
when carried under a streamlet or pathway it is often
a foot and a half beneath. It sometimes happens that
the mole will drive two or more additional high-roads
in order to the extension of its operations ; and one
high-road occasionally serves several moles, which,
however, never trespass on each other's preserves.
They often meet in these roads, which will not admit
of two passing at the same time ; one therefore must
retreat, but when two males thus come into collision
they frequently attack each other, the weaker falling a
victim in the combat. The alleys opening from the
sides of the high-road are generally inclined down-
wards with a gradual slope, and then at the termina-
tion of these the mole excavates branch alleys, upheav-
ing mole-hills as it works onwards in pursuit of prey.
This, however, is not invariably the case, but rather
where prey is abundant in rich soils : where the soil is
barren the mole is constantly driving fresh alleys;
these in winter are carried deep down to where the

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worms have pierced iheir way beyond the line to which
the frost penetrates; for, be it observed, the mole does
not hybernate, but is as active during winter as in
spring or summer, though the results of his operations
are less manifest. In soft rich soils, where the worms
are among the roots of the turf, the mole, as may be
often noticed, drives very superficial runs in the pur-
suit of them ; these runs are to be seen where a thin
layer of richly manured soil overlays a stratum of
gravel: in fact the depth of these alleys is always
determined by the quality of the soil and consequent
situation of the worms. With respect to the nest of
the female, it is generally constructed at a distance
from the fortress, where, at some convenient part, three
or four passages intersect each other: this point of
convergence is enlarged and rendered commodious,
and fitted to receive a bed made of dry herbage, fibrous
roots, &c. The chamber is generally beneath a large
hillock, but ndt always; and the surrounding soil is
usually such as to afford abundant food to the female
with little trouble on her part The mole breeds in
the spring, mostly in April, and brings forth four or
five young at a birth. These are supposed to remain
under the mother's care till about naif grown, when
they commence an independent existence.

Of all animals the mole is one that endures fasting
the least ; a short fast proves fatal to it, hence it is
necessarily ever labouring in quest of food. It would
appear that all its animal appetites are in excess ; its
hunger is voracity amounting to rage, under the influ-
ence of which it fastens on its prey with intense eager-
ness. Earthworms are its favounte food, and these it
skins with great address, squeezing out the earthy con-
tents of the body before swallowing it. It is not, how-
ever, exclusively upon earthworms and the larvae of
insects that the mole feeds; during the months of
June and July it is in the habit of leaving its runs
under the turf, and of wandering during the night
(and occasionally even during the day) on the surface,
in quest of prey, such as birds, mice, frogs, lizards,
snails, &c. ; but it refuses to touch the toad, in conse-
quence no doubt of the acrid exudation from that rep-
tile's skin. During these noctural excursions it often
falls a prey to the owl ; and we have seen it in the day
time caught and killed by dogs. It might be supposed
from the figure of the mole that its motions were very
slow and deliberate ; it trips along, however, at a fair
pace, and traverses its underground runs and galleries
with great rapidity. Of this the experiments made by
Le Court afford decisive proof. Watching the oppor-
tunity while a mole was feeding, at the extreme limits
of its territory, he placed along the course of the high
road to its fortress a number of little flagstaff's, each
staff being a straw, and the flag a bit of paper ; the
ends of the straws were pushed down into the tunnel.
When all was ready he blew a horn inserted into one
of the openings of the feeding alleys, frightening with
the horrid blast the animal then busily engaged in the
important task of satisfying its hunger. Off started the
mole for its fortress, and down went flag after flag in
rapid succession, as the frightened creature impelled
by terror rushed along the tunnel to its asylum. So
swift was its pace, that the spectators compared it to
that of a horse at a moderate trot.

The voracity of the mole and its perpetually recur-
ring repasts upon animal food, render water not only a
welcome refreshment, but necessary to its existence.
A run, sometimes used by many individuals, always
leads to a ditch, stream, or pond, if such be within a
moderate distance. If these natural supplies be not
at hand, the mole sinks little wells, in the shape of per-
pendicular shafts, which become filled with the rain,
and retain the water ; and they have sometimes been
found brim full. Scarcity of water, or a drought,

as well as a scarcity of worms, often obliges the mole
to shift its quarters, and locate upon other grounds. In
its migration it will cross brooks or rivers, swimming
admirably ; and when spring or autumn floods inun-
date the fields, it easily saves itself by these means. It
is moreover affirmed that in this peril the male and
female brave the waters together, and expose them-
selves to the utmost danger in order to save their
young, in which office of parental devotion they
mutually assist and protect eacli other.

It is a remarkable circumstance that the males of
this animal are far more numerous than the females,
and in the early part of the spring the former often
engage in most desperate conflicts, the victor not un-
frequently leaving the vanquished dead upon the spot.
The attachment of the male to his mate is very power-
ful ; — and instances are not uncommon of the male
lying dead beside the female, the latter having been
killed in a trap. It must be recollected that a short
fast proves fatal to these animals — and it is not impro-
bable that, impelled by the force of instinctive attach-
ment, which overcame that of hunger, the male re-
jected or forbore to seek food, and thus pined to death.

With the voracity of the mole is joined a fierce and
combative disposition. If several moles be kept in a box
of earth, and not supplied with an abundance of food,
they attack each other, and the weaker falls a prey to
the stronger: when the mole seizes, it holds like a
bull-dog, with a tenacious gripe ; and is not easily dis-
engaged. Mr. Jackson, as stated by Mr. Bell, says
that, " when a boy, his hand was so severely and firmly
laid hold of by one, that he was obliged to use his
teeth in order to loosen its hold." M. Geoffroy St.
Hilaire describes the manner in which the mole ap-
proaches and seizes a bird : it exerts several stratagems
to get within reach of its victim, employing the utmost
address and caution ; but when this is accomplished, it
suddenly changes its plan, and makes an instantaneous
and impetuous attack, fastens on the hapless bird, tears
open the abdomen, thrusts its snout among the viscera,
and revels in its sanguinary repast. After satiating
its ravenous appetite, the mole sinks into a profound
repose : in the winter it slumbers in its fortress ; but
in the summer, beneath some ordinary mole-hill in
one of its alleys. This sleep endures for about four
hours, or perhaps longer in the middle of the day,
when it awakes with a renovated appetite. Its busiest
time is in the evening* during the night, and early in
the morning. We have, however, ourselves seen it
busy above-ground in the earlier part of the day ; on
one occasion we saw several in a damp meadow near
the canal running from Calais to St. Omer, and a dog
belonging to one of the passengers on board the boat
killed two or three.

From what we have said of the habits of the mole,
some idea may be formed as to whether it injures or
benefits the agriculturist and horticulturist. — It is
certainly not herbivorous ; for though fibrous roots and
other vegetables have been occasionally found in its
stomach, it is evident that they were only accidentally
swallowed with the worms it had dislodged from among
the roots of the grass, or with the larvoe which it had
extricated by gnawing the vegetable matters into
which they had bored. As regards its nest, which is
made of dried grasses, fibrous roots, moss, and the like,
little injury can result from the animal constructing it
of these materials. It is true that Geoffroy St Hilaire and
Le Court counted two hundred and four young wheat-
blades in one nest, but this is evidently not an ordinary
occurrence. It is alleged that the fortresses which
the mole constructs for its autumn and winter resi-
dence, when left in the summer (the mole usually form-
ing a new one for its next winter retreat), afford pro-
tection to the field-mouse, of which the ravages are

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[February 11,

often so severe ; but the field-mouse would make a
burrow for itself, did it not find one constructed for its
purpose, and would neither leave the spot nor become
diminished in numbers if not a mole-hill were in the
country ; besides, the field-mouse frequently fall a prey
to the mole. This objection, therefore, against the mole
is destitute of solidity, though it has often been urged.
The injury, therefore, which the mole produces must
be, first, from thinning the soil of earthworms ; and
secondly, from making galleries, and thus interfering
with the roots of vegetables, thereby causing their
destruction. The first argument has perhaps some
weight The utility of the earthworm is unquestion-
able. It loosens the soil by its boring operations;
thereby rendering it more porous and susceptible of the
infiltration of water, so essential to the nutriment of
plants. It moreover raises as well as lightens the sur-
face of the soil, insomuch that stones and other objects
which cumber the ground are even in a few months
buried beneath an accumulation of mould, the rejecta-
mentum of the nutritive materials of myriads of these
creatures, the effect of whose agency is to level and
smooth the surface of the soil and fit it for herbage.
Thus may they be called pasture-makers, or top-dressers
of pasture land. Still, granting all this, it is Questiona-
ble whether in rich soils trie quantity of worms destroyed,
however great, would materially reduce their count-
less numbers. With respect to the second point, moles
certainly do mischief in some cases to the farmer, by
excavating their runs and galleries, and that especially
in fields of grain, after the seed is sown, and when the

blades are rising : they do more mischief, however, in
gardens ; but there they occur very rarely. There are,
however, cases in which the mining operations of the
mole appear to be decidedly beneficial. In extensive
sheep-walks, the subsoil which they throw up forms a
good top-dressing to the short grass, the roots of which
they do not appear to injure, and it has been asserted
that sheep-walks from which these animals have been
extirpated have become materially altered in the cha-
racter of their 'feed,' and that the proprietors of the
sheep have been obliged to introduce tnem again. It
may be concluded, then, that the evils which the mole
occasions by its works have been greatly magnified :
while, perhaps, on the other hand, too much benefit
has been attributed, by its advocates, to the results of
its habits and economy.

The mole does not exist in the extreme north of
Scotland, in Zetland, or the Orkney Islands, nor has
it been seen in any part of Ireland.

Varieties of this animal often occur : we have ex-
amined specimens of a mouse-colour, of a white, cream
white, and pale yellowish orange.

The names by which the mole is known in England
are Mouldwarp, Mouldiwarp, and, in Dorsetshire and
Devonshire, Irani. "Wand" is its old Danish name;
and " Vond" its present name in Norway. The Welsh
term it Gwadd, and Twrch daear. It is the Maulwerf
of the Germans ; La Taupe of the French ; Topo of
the Spanish ; Toupeiro of the Portuguese ; and Talpa
of the Italians,

r Fort Chippewa, on the nver WelUud,or Chippewa.— ttoiu a lnaw

THE NIAGARA DISTRICT, WESTERN
CANADA.-NO. JI.

The district situated between Lake Ontario and Lake
Erie, as it has been the longest settled, so also is it the
best cultivated part of Western Canada. The vicinity
to the two great lakes renders the climate more agree-
able, by diminishing the severity of the winter and tem-
pering the summer heats. Fruits of various kinds arrive
at great perfection, cargoes of which are exported to
Montreal, Quebec, and other places situated in the less

my by Mr*. Simcoe, taken during the American Revoluuonulr \lar.j

genial parts of the Eastern province. Mrs. Jameson
speaks of this district as " superlatively beautiful.*' The
only place approaching a town in size and the number
of inhabitants, from the Falls all along the shores of
Lake Erie for a great distance, beyond even Grand
River, is Chippewa, situated on the river Welland, or
Chippewa, which empties itself in the Niagara Strait,
just where the rapids commence and the navigation
terminates. One or more steam-boats run between
Chippewa and Buffaloe. Chippewa is still but a small
village, but as it lies immediately on the great route

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from the Western states of the American Union to the
Falls of Niagara and the Eastern states, it will pro-
bably rise into importance.

In no country on the face of the globe has nature
traced out lines of internal navigation on so grand a
scale as in North America. Entering the mouth of
the St. Lawrence, in the north-eastern part of the con-
tinent^we are carried by that river through the great
lakes to the head of Lake Superior, a distance of nearly
nineteen hundred miles. On the south we find the
Mississipi pouring its waters into the Gulf of Mexico,
within a few degrees of the tropics, after a course of
three thousand two hundred miles. The * Great Water/
as the name signifies, and its numerous branches, drain
a surface of about one million one hundred thousand
square miles, or an area about twenty times greater
than England and Wales. The tributaries of the
Mississipi equal the largest rivers of Europe. The
course of the Missouri is probably not less than three
thousand miles. The Ohio winds above a thousand
miles through fertile countries. The tributaries of
these tributaries are great rivers. The* Wabash, a
feeder of the Ohio, has a course of about five hundred
miles, four hundred of which are navigable. When
the canal is completed which will unite Lake Michigan
with the head of navigation on the Illinois river, it
will be possible to proceed by lines of inland naviga-
tion from Quebec to New Orleans. There is space
within the regions enjoying these advantages of water-
communication, and already peopled by the Anglo-
Saxon race, for five hundred millions of the human
race, or more than double the population of Europe at
the present time. Imagination cannot conceive the
new influences which will be exercised on the affairs
of the world when the great valley of the Mississipi,
and the continent from Lake Superior to New Orleans,
is thronged with population. In the valley of the
Mississipi alone there is abundant room for a popula-
tion of a hundred millions.

The line of navigation by the St. Lawrence did not
extend beyond Lake Ontario until the Welland canal
was constructed. This important work is forty-two
miles long, and admits ships of one hundred and
twenty-five tons, which is about the average tonnage
of the trading vessels on the Lakes. The Niagara
Strait is nearly parallel to the Welland canal, and
more than one-third of it is not navigable. The canal,
by opening the communication between Lake Ontario
and Lake Erie, has conferred an immense benefit on
all the districts west of Ontario. The great Erie
canal, described in No. 466, has been still more benefi-
cial, by connecting the lakes with New York and the
Atlantic by the Hudson river, which the canal joins
after a course of three hundred and sixty-three miles.
The effect of these two canals was quickly perceptible
in the greater activity of commerce on Lake Erie,
and the Erie canal has rendered this lake the great
line of transit from New York to the Western states.

The first steam-boat which navigated the lakes was
built at Erie in 1818. In that year the tonnage of all
the lakes did not exceed two thousand tons ; but, ac-
cording to* Mr. Buckingham's very recent statement, it
now exceeds fifty thousand tons, and employs six
thousand men. The largest of the steam-vessels are
from seven to eight hundred tons, and the smallest
three hundred tons. Some of the finest steam-boats in
the United States are to be found here. They navigate
from Chicago on Lake Michigan, to Buffaloe in the
state of New York, a distance of nearly a thousand
miles ; and a great part of the voyage on these inland
seas is made out of sight of land. The steam-boats are
built as strongly as if intended for navigating the
ocean. Mr. Buckingham, who was much struck with
their capabilities, and the excellence of all their inter-

nal arrangements, gives the following account of two
which particularly attracted his attention: — "The
Illinois, he says, " is built after the fashion of the
Eastern boats, such as go between New York and
Providence or Boston, but much more elegant than
any of thc3c. The Illinois indeed may be called a
floating palace, the most costly decorations being
everywhere lavished on her, as may be judged of from
the tact of her costing 130,000 dollars (27,000/.) from
the builder's hands. The Great Western is another
splendid boat, still larger than the Illinois, and almost
as richly ornamented, but built on the plan of the
Mississipi boats, with a double deck of cabins, so as to
accommodate about five hundred passengers, with high-
pressure engines, but combining also speed, safety, and
comfort in an unusual degree." In the passage down
Lake Erie, ships, brigs, sloops, and schooners are seen
in every direction on the horizon. Mr. Buckingham
counted above one hundred, and twenty-two were in
sight at one time. The voyage from Cleaveland, or the
southern shore of Lake Erie, to Buffaloe, a distance ot
one hundred and ninety miles, occupied about sixteen
hours. How great the contrast to the time when only
the Indian canoe was seen upon these waters !

SOUTH STAFFORDSHIRE AT NIGHT.

Many of our counties excel Staffordshire in those
traits which, either for their beauty or their singu-
larity, attract the attention of the traveller when
viewed by day ; but perhaps none is more remarkable,
more startling than this, when seen by night, especially
the southern portion of the county. The whole face
of the country seems to be on fire. A lurid glare
speckles the scene around in a manner very inexplica-
ble to one unacquainted with the mineral character of
the district From Birmingham to Wolverhampton,
from Stourbridge to Walsall, in whatever way we
travel, by night, over the extreme southern portion of
the county, appearances are presented which, if seen
near London, would set all the Fire Brigade into ac-
tivity.

We are to look to the mines of coal and iron as the
source of these peculiarities. South ^Staffordshire is
one of our richest and most valuable mineral districts.
It possesses the ironstone which affords, by smelting,
the metallic iron for our various uses, and it supplies the
coal for the smelting. In the geological maps of the
county, the coal and iron district is marked out by
some such limits as the following : — From Stourbridge
and Halesowen in the south (near the latter of which
Shenstone's residence of the Leasowes was situated)
to Rugeley in the north, an elongated oval marks the
region, the eastern boundary passing by Walsall, West
Bromwich, and Smethwick ; and the western by Can-
nock, Wolverhampton, and Sedgeley. The district is
perhaps twenty miles long, in a straight line, from
north to south, and four or five in average width ; the
southern half of this elongated oval has been the most
extensively worked, Dudley, Tipton, Bilston, and
Wednesbury being the centre of the busiest portion.

Most of our old topographers and historians have
more or less alluded to this region of coal and iron.
Camden, who is supposed to have travelled through
South Staffordshire about the year 1575, says of it : —
"The south part of Staffordshire hath coles digged
out of the earth, and mines of iron. But whether
more for their commoditie or hinderance, I leave to
the inhabitants who doe or shall better understand it."
What Camden means by this is not very clear ; ex-
cept that he took rather a slighting and unfavourable
view of that which has given wealth and influence to
South Staffordshire.

The records of the iron-works of Staffordshire go

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[February 11,

farther back than those relating to coal. All our iron
is now smelted with coal, or with coke produced there-
from : but formerly wood-charcoal was believed to be
the only fuel fitted for this purpose ; and this circum-
stance produced a remarkable effect on the surround-
ing districts. Domesday-Book and other authorities
state that large portions of South Staffordshire, and the
neighbouring part of Warwickshire, were covered
with wood ; whereas at the present day the amount
of wood is extremely small, the deficiency having
been occasioned by the large use of wood-charcoal in
smelting the iron. A curious surmise has been offered
as to the changes which the iron-smelting has pro-
duced in the districts near which it is carried on. It
is supposed that in early times the north-western parts
of Warwickshire, nearest to Staffordshire, were once
covered with wood, and were known by the name of Ar-
den, from a British or Celtic word implying Woodlands.
There are still towns, such as Hampton in Arden and
Henley in Arden, which seem to support this suppo-
sition. The iron of Staffordshire required, for its
smelting, the wood of Warwickshire ; and thus the two
met, as at a centre, at Birmingham, Dudley, Wednes-
bury, Tipton, and Walsall. Birmingham is not itself
situated in the iron district ; but occupying the mar-
gin of the two regions just indicated, we arrive at
something like a means ot accounting for the location
of manufactures in metal in these quarters.

In former times the iron-ore was not smelted on the
spot where it was procured, from the gradual exhaus-
tion of the wood required for the charcoal employed in
the smelting. It was carried, partly on horses' backs
and partly by other means, to places more favourable
for the smelting. But now all this is at an end. The
material accompanying the iron-ore is found to be ade-
quate to the smelting ; and a circle of five or six miles
radius, drawn around the town of Tipton as a centre,
would be found to include an extraordinary number
of establishments wherein the iron-ore is dug from the
mine, the coal also procured, the coal converted into
coke, and the iron-ore smelted by the aid of the coke
thus produced. In order to understand the effect of
these arrangements on the surrounding district, it may
be well briefly to explain the extent and position of
the mineral treasures. We have in former volumes
so fully explained the operations connected with the
smelting of iron, that a very few details will suffice to
illustrate our present object.

Over an area of about ninety square miles, in that
part of Staffordshire immediately north-west of Bir-
mingham, extends the Staffordshire * Coal-field ;' the
strata of coal and of iron-stone occurring pretty nearly
in every part, interspersed here and there by beds of
different earths, such as clay, rock, sand, &c. The
most remarkable strata of coal have distinctive names,
by which they are known to the miners and workmen :
thus the • ten-yard coal * alludes to a seam or stratum
about thirty feet in thickness. This is deemed a very
rich and valuable bed of coal, and extends over the
southern half of the district : it becomes thinner by
degrees, and * crops out,' or comes to the surface, near
Bilston. Northward of this point, as far as Rugeley,
a thinner stratum of coal is found. The general ' dip '
or inclination of the strata is south and north ; but many
irregularities and disturbances of direction occur.
Near Rugeley a * four-yard bed * is worked at a depth
of a hundred yards below the surface ; southward of
Wednesbury the pits are stated to be on an average
an equal depth to the former; near West Brom-
wich and Oldbury, a hundred and thirty yards ; at and
near Wednesbury, forty or fifty yards ; while at one
spot near Wolverhampton the coal comes so near the
surface, as to be procured in an open cutting, without
any subterranean operations. Such are the diversi-

ties in the position of the coal, and such the mode in
which the miners must follow it. Whatever quirks
and turns the bed of coal takes, thither do the miners
follow it with their pickaxe ; slanting upwards, slant-
ing downwards, or branching out laterally, as the case
may be. A shaft is sunk from the surface of the
ground to the level of the coal-bed, generally at
such a spot that the coals, as cut away from the bed,
may have a downward path towards the shaft. If it be
the ' ten-yard coal,' the operations of the miners arc
tolerably straight forward, gunpowder and the pick-
axe enabling him to detach mass after mass of the
mineral treasure ; but if the bed or seam of coal be
thin, it is extraordinary to conceive how the miner
can insinuate his body, in a working attitude too, in
such small apertures. The recent Report of the Par-
liamentary Committees on Mines and Collieries gives
us some striking information on this point.

Passing from the coal to the iron, we find that this
comes from an ore denominated • clay-iron-stone,' a
mixture of iron, clay, and other substances, in which
the iron is a more or less abundant ingredient, ac-
cording to the richness of the specimen. It accom-
panies the coal, in greater or less quantities, throughout
the whole district; being found in some strata in con-
tinuous beds, and in others taking the form of balls
or lumps distributed among the clayey and other
deposits. It is situated, geologically, both above and
below the * ten-yard coal ;' and when found in beds or
seams, it is known by the miners under the names of

* blue flats,' ' blue clist,' and ' white stone.' When it
occurs in balls or lumps, these are found imbedded in
clayey earth of considerable hardness, designated, ac-
cording to its varieties in quality, by the odd names
of • church,* ' binds,' • iron-stone-bearer,' • penny-earth,'

• gubbin-stonc,' 'poor robin,* &c. The iron-ore is
usually closely accompanied by coal in the mine ; and
it is generally extracted after the coal has been re-
moved. It is detached in small masses by the pick-
axe, much in the same manner as coal; but the
extraction is often more difficult, owing to the thinness
of the seam. A miner will often carry on his opera-
tions in a seam only two feet in height, into which he
will insinuate his body and his working tools.

These are the two minerals, the preparation of which
on reaching the surface of the ground gives rise to the
remarkable appearance which this part of Stafford-
shire presents at night. The coke-ovens, or rather
coke-hills, and the iron-furnaces, are the scenes of the
fire and flame and smoke which meet the travellers
eye while passing over — say from Birmingham towards
Shropshire, or from Kidderminster through Dudley
towards Lichfield. These coke-hills are structures ot
which we know nothing near London. Our manufac-
turers make coke in close chambers, such as ovens or
retorts; but in Staffordshire, whether it be to save
expense, or whether the Staffordshire coal requires a
method of coking different from that which is observed
in respect of the coal used near London, the coal is
coked out in the open air. Near the furnace, in a
spot of ground kept vacant for the purpose, the coal
is heaped up in a form somewhat resembling that of a
bee-hive, of large dimensions, and then set on fire ;
the top is covered with a layer of clay or other earthy
substance, which will prevent the coal from bursting
out too briskly into flame, and will cause it to smoulder
till it assumes the form of coke. When a number of
these hills are watched from a distance, we see smoke
emanating from them in abundance, and, here and
there a flickering flame, when anything occurs to dis-
turb the clay coating on the surface.

These coke-hills constitute one source of the glare
which the district presents, a never-ending series of
coking operations being carried on. Another source

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is that ,of the iron-furnaces, from whose summits a
lofty pillar of flame repeatedly ascends. These fur-
naces are bulky brick structures, capable of containing
a vast quantity of material procured from the mines.
The iron-ore and the coke, together with some third
substance, such as limestone, to act as a flux, are all
put into these furnaces, where they are kindled. Day
and night, Sunday and week-day, in rain and in sun-
shine, does this continue; the ingredients being thrown
in at the top of the furnace, the iron being separated
from the earths by the effect of heat, and the melted
metal flowing out at stated intervals from openings in
the bottom of the furnace. In London, where all ex-
cept a small number of factories cease smoking at
night, we have hardly a conception of the startling
effect which these ever-burning furnaces present, es-
pecially at those hours when darkness would other-
wise prevail around. Perhaps the coach-road from
Birmingham to Wolverhampton is that which affords
to a night traveller the most remarkable and numerous
examples of this kind, having the districts around Old-
bury, Dudley, Tipton, and Sedgeley, in the south, and
those around Wednesbury, Walsall, and Bilston, on the
north.

There is yet another source of the flickering flames
so often alluded to. In some of the iron-works where
casting or founding is executed, the metal is melted in
lofty furnaces, open, or partially open, at the top ; or
rather the flame from the fire beneath often ascends to
the top of the chimney, and thus presents a vivid ob-
ject visible from a great distance.

The appearance of the district by day is very accu-
rately described by Mr. Hawkes Smith, in his • Bir-
mingham and its Vicinity.* After speaking of the
clouds of smoke, the bulky furnaces, and the tall
chimneys which meet the visitor's gaze, he proceeds : —
" Here and there he sees protruded the mighty arm of
the giant of art, the potent steam-engine, whirling the
heavy fly which regulates the motion of the whole
attached machinery ; while the sky is crossed by the
light tracery of wheels and ropes adapted to the pur-
poses of the mines, both right and left of the moving-
power. The prospect, where the view is not impeded
oy the flat-topped mountainous ridges of cinder, is
varied by numerous clustering hamlets, or assemblages
of 8 mall houses, the habitations of the countless la-
bourers and others called into activity by the neigh-
bouring * Works;' interspersed here and there with
modern mansions of superior pretension oddly placed ;
or with dwellings of a still less congruous character,
curious specimens of fretted brick-work, embroidered
chimney-stacks, and chevroned gables ; or black and
white timbered grange-houses, the relics of an agri-
cultural age, invaded by the encroachments of smoke
and bustle, — all intermixed with a moderate supply of
green or greenish fields, dotted occasionally with sooty
sheep or cattle. Canals, with all their appurtenances,
intersect the region in every direction, and strange
noises from every quarter are wafted to the ear."

Those who have visited inns and private bouses
within ten or twenty miles of the district now under
notice, may have remarked the huge cheerful blazing
fires of Staffordshire — coal everywhere to be found.
Fuel is procurable at a price which may well excite
the envy of a Londoner ; and we see the effects of this
cheapness in the kind of fiies kept up in the dwellings.

It may be well to remark that in using the term
* 4 South Staffordshire," we employ one which expresses
the name of the district more correctly than any other.
But, in truth, it is not easy to say what county we
are in while traversing it ; for Warwickshire, Stafford-
shire, Worcestershire, and Shropshire intertwine so
greatly at this part, and there are so many outlying
patches, wholly detached frum the counties to which

they nominally belong, that we may change our county
three or lour times in the course of a few miles' walk.
Birmingham is in Warwickshire ; Oldbury and Hales-
owen in Shropshire ; Dudley and Stourbridge are in
Worcestershire ; and Wolverhampton, Walsall, Wed-
nesbury, and Tipton in Staffordshire. And yet all these
towns are within a circle of six miles radius. Even in
the short distance from Birmingham to Dudley (seven
miles in a straight line) we quit Warwickshire, pass
into Staffordshire, thence to Oldbury in Shropshire,
then a second time into Staffordshire, and end at Dudley
in Worcestershire.

PUBLIC REFRESHMENTS.

Dining. — From ' London.'

The fortunes of Roderick Random and his companion
Strap show that, in Smollett's time, there were cellars
in London attended as eating-houses, down which
many a man was wont to " dive for a dinner." When
Roderick and Strap arrived in London, and had taken
a cheap and obscure lodging near St. Martin's Lane,
they asked their landlord where they could procure a
dinner. He told them that there were eating-houses
for well-dressed people, and cellars for those whose
purses were somewhat of the lightest. Roderick said
that the latter would better suit the circumstances oi
himself and his companion ; whereupon the landlord
undertook to pilot them to one of these cellars : — •' He
accordingly carried us to a certain lane, where stop-
ping, he Did us observe him, and do as he did ; and,
walking a few paces, dived into a cellar, and disap-
peared in an instant I followed his example, and
descended very successfully, where I found myself in
the middle of a cook's-shop, almost suffocated with the
steams of boiled beef, ana surrounded by a company
consisting chiefly of hackney-coachmen, chairmen,
draymen, and a lew footmen out of place or on board-
wages, who sat eating shin-of-beef, tripe, cow-heel, or
sausages, at separate boards, covered with cloths which
turned my stomach. While I stood in amaze, unde-
termined whether to sit down or walk upwards again,
Strap, in his descent, missing one of the steps, tumbled
headlong into this infernal ordinary, and overturned
the cook as she was carrying a porringer of soup to
one of the guests. In her fall she dashed the whole
mess against the legs of a drummer belonging to the
foot-guards, who happened to be in her way. : ' How
the drummer swore, and the cook rubbed his le£ with
salt, and Roderick recommended the substitution of
oil, and how Strap made his peace by paying for the
soup and treating the drummer, need not be told. The
cook s-shop in the cellar is sufficiently depicted.

It is probable that itinerant piemen, sucn as Hogarth
gives to the life, have for centuries formed one class
of London characters, and that various other eatables,
and drinkables too, have been vended about in a simi-
lar manner, time out of mind ; but by what steps the
modern cook's-shop, or eating-house, has reached its
present condition, it is not perhaps easy to say. There
are, it appears, about two hundred places in London
which can fittingly come under the denomination of
eating-houses, occupying a place between the hotels
on the one hand and the coffee-rooms on the other.
At all of these places joints of meat are dressed every
day, depending for variety on the extent of business
done, but generally including boiled beef and roast
beef, as well as the necessary appendages for the for-
mation of a dinner. In some of these houses the quan-
tity of meat dressed in a week is quite enormous ; and
it seems pretty evident that the greater the sale the
better the quality of the articles sold— or perhaps
we may take it in an inverse order, that the excellence
of the provisions lias led to the extent of the custom.

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Some of these dining-rooms are the scenes of bustle
during only a few hours of the day; while others,
either from the extent of their trade or the different
classes of their visitors, present a never-ceasing pic-
ture of eating and drinking. Some, such as a cele-
brated house in Bishopsgate-street, are frequented al-
most entirely by commercial men and City clerks, who,
during a few hours in the day, flock in by hundreds.
Then again others, such as Williams's boiled-beef shop
in the Old Bailey, and a few in the neighbourhood or
Lincoln's Inn Fields, are frequented almost entirely by
lawyers' clerks, witnesses, and others engaged in the
law or criminal courts. In all such places there is a
" best" room for those whose purses are tolerably sup-
plied ; and a more humble room, generally nearer to
the street, for such as can afford only a "sixpenny
plate." Again, on going farther westward, we find
in the neighbourhood of Covent Garden and the Hay-
market dining-rooms in great plenty, the visitants at
which are altogether of a different class. Here we
may see actors, artists, paragraph-makers, and fo-
reigners, most of whom seem in much less haste than
the City diners. In this quarter of the town there are
many French restaurateurs, whose rooms present the
agreeable variety of ladies dining without any restraint
from the observation of the male visitors.

It is observable that in some houses the waiter gives
the diner a long detail of the good things which are
*' just ready," while in others there is a printed bill of
fare placed before him. The latter is certainly the
most systematic method ; for, by the time the nimble
waiter has got through his speech, we almost forget
the first items to which he directed attention. In the
•' bill of fare " all the dishes customarily prepared at
the house are printed in certain groups, and the prices
are written opposite those which are to be had hot on
any particular day, so that a customer can at once see
what provisions are ready, and how much he shall
have to pay for them* In the opposite case, where the
visitor knows nothing of the matter but what the
waiter tells him, the routine of proceedings may be
thus sketched : — The guest, perhaps a man of business
who has but little time to spare for his dinner, enters
the room, takes the first seat he can find (the one
nearest the fire in cold weather), takes off his hat, and
asks for the ' Times ' or the • Chronicle/ While he is
glancing his eye rapidly over the daily news, the active
tidy waiter, with a clean napkin on his left arm, comes
to his side, and pours into his ear, in a rapid but mo-
notonous tone, some such narrative as the following:
— " Roast beef, boiled beef, roast haunch of mutton,
boiled pork, roast veal and ham, salmon and shrimp-
sauce, pigeon-pie, rump-steak pudding." The visitor
is perhaps deep in the perusal of " Spanish Scrip " or
44 Colombian Bonds," or some other newspaper intel-
ligence, and the waiter is obliged to repeat his cata-
logue ; but, generally speaking, the order is quickly
given and quickly attended to. A plate of roast beef,
which may be taken as a standard of comparison, is
charged for at these places at prices varying from 4d.
to 10rf., generally from 6cL to 8d. ; and other articles
are in a corresponding ratio. When the meat and ve-
getables have disappeared, the nimble waiter is at your
elbow, to ask whether pastry or cheese is wanted ; and
when the visitor is about to depart, the waiter adds
up, with characteristic rapidity, the various items con-
stituting the bill. *' Meat &/., potatoes \d. t bread lrf.,
cheese Id.," &c, are soon summed up ; the money is
paid, and the diner departs.

At the alamode-beef houses the routine is still more
rapid. Here a visitor takes his Beat, and the waiter
places before him a knife, a fork, and a spoon ; and
gives him the choice among sundry lumps of bread
kept in an open basket. Meanwhile the visitor asks

for a " sixpenny plate ;" and it may happen that two
other customers ask at the same time, the one for a
sixpenny and the other for a fourpenny plate. Out
goes the waiter, calling, in a quick tone, for "two
sixes and a four ;" a brevity which is perfectly well
understood by those who are to lade out the soup from
the cauldron wherein it is prepared. Presently he re-
turns with a pile of pewter-plates, containing the " two
sixes and a four," and places them before the diners.

There is a lower class of soup-houses, where persons
to whom sixpence is even too much for a dinner may
obtain wherewithal to dine. Whoever has had to walk
through Broad-street, St. Giles's, or down the northern
side of Holborn-hill, may have seen shops, in the win-
dows of which a goodly array of blue and white basins
is displayed, and from which emanate abundant clouds
of odour-giving steam. Around the windows, too, a
crowd of hungry mortals assemble on a cold day, and
partake Tin imagination) of the enticing things within.
A poor fellow, ail in tatters, with a countenance which
speaks strongly of privation, gazes eagerly through
the window at what is going on within, and thinkB
how rich a man must be who can afford to pay two-
pence or threepence for " a basin of prime soup, po-
tatoes, and a slice of bread ;" — for it is at some such
charge as this that the viands are sold.

The "chop-houses" in the City form a class by
themselves. They are neither eating-houses nor ta-
verns, nor do they belong to classes hereafter to be
noticed. The solid food here to be procured is chiefly
in the form of a steak or a chop, with such small ap-
pendages as are necessary to form a meal. There is
no hot joint from which a guest may have a "six-
penny M or a " ninepenny " plate ; nor are there the
various dishes which fill up tne bill of fare at a dining-
room. Every guest knows perfectly well what he can
procure there. If a chop or a steak will suffice, he
can obtain it; if not, he goes to some house where
greater variety is provided. With his chop he can
have such liquor aa his taste may prefer. There are
some of these houses which have been attended by one
generation afier another of guests, comprising mer-
chants, bankers, and commercial men of every grade.
The portrait of the founder, or a favourite waiter, may
perhaps be seen over the fireplace in the best room ;
and the well-rubbed tables, chairs, and benches tell of
industry oft repeated. Sometimes the older houses
exhibit a waiter who has gone through his daily routine
for half a century. There is a dingy house in a court
in Fleet-street wnere the chops and steaks are unri-
valled. Who that has tasted there that impossible
thing of private cookery — a hot mutton-chop, a second
brought when the first is despatched — has not pleasant
recollections of the never-ending call to the cook of
" Two muttons to follow ? "

Many houses have what is termed in France a table-
d'hote, or in England an ordinary; that is, a dinner
ready for all comers at a fixed hour in the day, and at
a fixed charge. The host determines on the choice of
good things to constitute the bill of fare ; and the diner
partakes of such as may best accord with his palate.
Some of these places are attended day after day by
nearly the same persons, while others see a constant
succession of new faces. There is one such house
near or in Billingsgate, celebrated for the excellence
of the fish* which forms a component part of the cheer ;
and which is, on this account, much frequented
by the connoisseurs in fish. A public-house (really
one) in a street near Covent Garden has an ordinary of
three courses, which the lovers of economical good eat-
ing, who cannot dine without fish and pastry, delight
to haunt. But there are few of these. The ordinaries
of the days of Elizabeth have left few successors.

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SIR ROd Eft

The bomour of Ad<
of Sir Roger's chapl
rag specimen of
clergyman of the &
vast amount of tet

Suite 8b much pit
wire.
** My chief companion, wnen oir noger is diverting
himself in the woods or the fields; is a very venerable
man who fa ever with Sir Roger, and has lived at his
house in the nature df a chaplain above thirty years.
This gentleman is a person of £ood sense aild'some
learning, of a very regular life and obliging conversa-
tion : he heartily ldves Sir Roger, and knows that he is
very mnch in the old knight's esteem, sd that he lives
in the family rather as a relation than a dependant.

• I have observed in several of mf papers that my
friend Sir Roger, amidst ail his good qualities, is
something of a humourist : and that his virtues as well
as imperfections are, as it were, tinged by a certain
extravagance, which makes them particularly his, and
distinguishes them from those Of other men. This cast
of mind, as it is generally very innocent in itself, so it
renders his conversation highly agreeable and more
delightful than the same degree of sense and virtue
vould appear in their common and ordinary colours.
As I was walking with him last night, he asked me
how I liked the good man whom I have just now men-

No.

698.

tioned j and without staying for my answer, told me
that he was afraid of being insulted with Latin and
Greek at hid own table ; for which reason he desired a
particular friend of his at the university to find him
out a clergyman rather of plain sense than much learn-
ing, df a good aspect, a clear voice, a sociable temper,
and, if passible, a man that understood a little of back-
gammon. * My friend,' says Sir Roger, 'found me out
this gentleman, who, besides the endowments required
of him, is, they tell me, a good scholar, though he does
ribtshow it. I have given him the parsonage of the
parish ; and, because I know his value, have settled
Upon him a gotid annuity for life. If he outlives me*
he shall find that he was higher in my esteem than per-
haps he thinks he is. He has now been with me thirty
years; and though he docs not know I have taken
notice of it, has never in all that time asked anything
of me for himself, though he is every day soliciting
me for something in behalf of one or other of my
tenants his parishioners. There has not been a law-

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[February 18,

suit in the parish since he has lived amcng them ; if
any dispute arises, they apply themselves to him for
the decision ; it' they do not acquiesce in his judgment,
which I think never happened above once or twice at
most, they appeal to me. At his first settling with me.
I made him a present of all the good sermons which
have been printed in English, and only begged of him
thti-'every Sunday he would pronounce one of them in
the pulpit. Accordingly he has digested them into
such a scries that they follow one another naturally,
and make a continued system of practical divinity."

The Spectator goes to church, and hears "the
Bishop ot St. Asaph in the morning, and Dr. South in
the afternoon ;" that is, he hears the chaplain read a
sermon from Fleetwood's and South's printed collections.
He says, " I was so charmed with the gracefulness of
his figure and delivery, as well as with the discourses
he pronounced, that I think I never passed any time
more to my satisfaction." This is to speak of a ser-
mon as he would of a play ; which was indeed very
much the temper of the Spectator's age. He recom-
mends to the country clergy not " to waste their spirits
in laborious compositions of their own ;" but to enforce
" by a handsome elocution " those discourses " which
have been penned by great masters." Whether the
advice be judicious or not is scarcely necessary to be
discussed. There is something higher to he attained
by preaching than enabling a listener to pass his time
to his satisfaction ; but something even worse may be
effected by cold, incoherent, and dull preaching —
drowsiness under the shadow of high pews.

Sir Roger's picture gallery is an interesting portion
of his ancient mansion. Tnere is one picture in it
which has reference to his own personal history : —

44 At the very upper end of this handsome structure
I saw the portraiture of two young men standing in a
river, the one naked, the other in a livery. The per-
son supported seemed half dead, but still so much alive
as to show in his face exquisite joy and love towards
the other. I thought the fainting figure resembled
iny friend Sir Roger ; and looking at the butler, who
stood by me, for an account of it, he informed me that
the person in the livery was a servant of Sir Roger's,
who stood on the shore while his master was swim-
ming, and observing him taken with some sudden ill-
ness, and sink under water, jumped in and saved him.
lie told me Sir Roger took off the dress he was in as
soon as he came home, and by a great bounty at that
time, followed by his favour ever since, had made him
master of that pretty seat which we saw at a distance
as we came to his house. I remembered, indeed, Sir
Roger said, there lived a very worthy gentleman, to
whom he was highly obliged, without mentioning any-
thing further. Upon my looking a little dissatisfied at
some part of the picture, my attendant informed me
that it was against Sir Roger's will, and at the earnest
request of the gentleman himself, that he was drawn
in the habit in which he had saved his master."

But the gallery is chiefly filled with the portraits of
the old De Coverleys. There we have the knight in
buff of the days of Elizabeth, who won *■ a maid of
honour, the greatest beauty of her time," in a tourna-
ment in the tilt-yard. The spendthrift of the next
generation — the fine gentleman who "ruined every-
body that had anything to do with him, but never said
a rude thing in his life," is drawn at full-length, with
his " little boots, laces, and slashes." But the real old
English country gentleman, who kept his course of
honour in evil times— in days of civil commotion, and
afterwards in a period of court profligacy — is a cha-
racter which we ti ust will never be obsolete : —

"This man (pointing to him I looked at) I take to
be the honour of our house, Sir Humphry de Cover-
ley : he was in his dealings as punctual as a trades-

man, and as generous as a gentleman. He would
have thought himself as much undone by breaking his
word, as if it were to be followed by bankruptcy. He
served his country as knight of the shire to his dying
day. He found it no easy matter to maintain an in-
tegrity in his words and actions, even in things that re-
garded the offices which were incumbent upon him in
the care of his own affairs and relations of life, and
therefore dreaded (though he had great talents) to go
into employments of state, where he must be exposed
to the snares of ambition. Innocence of life and great
ability were the distinguishing parts of .his character ;
the latter, he had often observed, had led to the de-
struction of the former, and he used frequently to la-
ment that great and good had not the same significa-
tion. He was an excellent husbandman, but had re-
solved not to exceed such a degree of wealth; all
above it he bestowed in secret bounties many years
after the sum he aimed at for his own use was attained.
Yet he did not slacken his industry, but to a decent
old age spent the life and fortune which were super-
fluous to himself in the service of his friends and
neighbours."

The ghosts which used to haunt Sir Roger's man-
sion were laid, even in his time, by a good orthodox
process : —

44 My friend Sir Roger has often told me, with a
great deal of mirth, that at his first coming to his es-
tate he found three parts of his house altogether use-
less ; that the best room in it had the reputation of
being haunted, and by that means was locked up ;
that noises had been heard in his long gallery, so that
he could not get a servant to enter it after eight o'clock
at night ; that the door of one of his chambers Mas
nailed up, because there went a story in the family
that a butler had formerly hanged himself in it ; and
that his mother, who lived to a great age, had shut up
half the rooms in the house, in which either her hus-
barflffa son, or daughter had died. The knight, see-
ing his habitation reduced to so small a compass, and
himself in a manner shut out of his own house, upon
the death of his mother ordered all the apartments to
be flung open, and exorcised by his chaplain, who lay
in every room one after another, and by that means
dissipated the fears which had so long reigned in the
family."

But the belief in apparitions was not passed away.
The haunted ruins are described by Addison with his
usual grace : —

"At a little distance from Sir Roger's house, among
the ruins of an old abbey, there is a long walk of aged
elms, which are shot up so very high, that when one
passes under them, the rooks and crows that rest upon
the tops of them seem to be cawing in another region.
I am very much delighted with this sort of noise, which
I consider as a kind of natural prayer to that Being
who supplies the wants of his own creation, and who,
in the beautiful language of the Psalms, feedeth the
young ravens that call upon him. I like this retire-
ment the better, because of an ill report it lies under
of being haunted ; for which reason (as I have been
told in the family) no living creature ever walks in it
besides the chaplain. My good friend the butler de-
sired me, with a very grave face, not to venture my-
self in it after sunset, for that one of the footmen had
been almost frighted out of his wits by a spirit that
appeared to him in the shape of a black horse without
a head ; to which he added, that about a month ago
one of the maids, coming home late that way with a
pail of milk upon her head, heard such a rustliDg
among the bushes that she let it fall."

[To be continued ]

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ESSAYS ON THE LIVES OF REMARKABLE
PAINTERS.— No. II.

Giovanni Cimabuk — (concluded).
Giovanni of Florence, of the noble family of the
Cimabue, called otherwise Gualtieri, was born in 1240.
He was early sent by his parents to study grain-
mar in the school of the convent of Santa Maria
Novella, where (as is also related of other inborn
painters), instead of conning his task, he distracted his
teachers by drawing men, horses, buildings, on his
school-books : before printing was invented, this spoil-
ing of school-books must have been rather a costly
fancy, and no doubt alarmed the professors of Greek
and Latin. His parents, wisely yielding to the natural
bent of his mind, allowed him to study painting under
some Greek artist who had come to Florence to decorate
the church of the convent in which he was a scholar. It
seems doubtful whether Cimabue did study under
these identical painters alluded to by Vasari, but that
his masters and models were the Byzantine painters of
the time seems to admit of no doubt whatever. The
earliest of his works mentioned by Vasari still exists—
a St. Cecilia, painted for the altar of that saint, but
now preserved in the church of San Stefano. He was
soon afterwards employed by the monks of Vallom-
brosa, for whom he painted a Madonna with Angels on
a gold ground, now preserved in the Academy of the
Fine Arts at Florence. He also painted a Crucifixion
for the church of the Santa Croce, still to be seen
there, and several pictures for the churches of Pisa, to
the great contentment of the Pisans ; and by these and
other works his fame being spread far and near, he was
called in the year 1265. when he was only twenty-five, to
finish the frescoes in the church of St. Francis at Assisi,
which had been begun by Greek painters and con-
tinued by Giunta Pisano.

The decoration of this celebrated church is memor-
able in the history of painting. It is known that many
of the best artists of the thirteenth and fourteenth cen-
turies were employed there, but only fragments of the
earliest pictures exist, and the authenticity of those
ascribed to Cimabue has been disputed by a great
authority (Rumohr, ' Italienische Forschungen'). Lanzi,
however, and Dr. Kugler, agree in attributing to him
the paintings on the roof of the nave, representing, in
medallions, the figures of Christ, the Nfadonna, St.
John the Baptist, St. Francis, and the four Evangelists.
" The ornaments which surround these medallions are,
however, more interesting than the medallions them-
selves. In the lower corners of the triangles are re-
presented naked Genii bearing tasteful vases on their
heads ; out of these grow rich foliage and flowers, on
which hang other Genii, who pluck the fruit or lurk in
the cups of the flowers." (Kugler.) If these are
really by the hand of Cimabue, we must allow that
here is a great step in advance of the formal mono-
tony of his Greek models. He executed many other
pictures in this famous church, " con diligenza infinita,"
from the Old and the New Testament, in which, judging
from the fragments which remain, he showed a decided
improvement in drawing, in dignity of attitude, and
in the expression of life, but still the figures have only
just so much of animation and significance as are abso-
lutely necessary to render the story or action intelli-
gible. There is no variety, no express imitation of
nature. Being recalled by his affairs to Florence,
about 1270, he painted there the most celebrated of all
his works, the Madonna and Infant Christ, for the
church of Santa Maria Novella. This Madonna, of a
larger size than any which had been previously exe-
cuted, had excited in its progress great curiosity and
interest among his fellow-citizens, for Cimabue re-
fused to uncover it to public view : but it happened
about that time that Charles of Anjou, brother of Louis

IX., being on his way to take possession of the king-
dom of Naples, passed through Florence, and was
received and feasted by the nobles of that city ; and
among other entertainments, they conducted him to
visit the atelier of Cimabue, which was in a garden
near the Porta San Piero : on this festive occasion
the Madonna was uncovered, and the people in joyous
crowds hurried thither to look upon it, rending the
air with exclamations of delight and astonishment,
whence this quarter of the city obtained and has kept
ever since the name of the ' Borgo Allegri. 1 The Ma-
donna, when finished, was carried in great pomp from
the atelier of the painter to the church for which it
was destined, accompanied by the magistrates of the
city, by music, and by crowds of people in solemn and
festive procession. This well-known anecdote has lent
a venerable charm to the picture, which is yet to be
seen in the church of Santa Maria Novella; but it
is difficult in this advanced state of ait to sympathise in
the naive enthusiasm it excited in the minds of a whole
people six hundred years ago. Though not without
a certain grandeur, the form is very stiff, with long
lean fingers, and formal drapery, little varying from
the Byzantine models ; but the Infant Christ is better,
the angels on either side have a certain elegance and
dignity, and the colouring in its first freshness and •
delicacy had a charm hitherto unknown. After this
Cimabue became famous in all Italy. He had a school
of painting at Florence and many pupils, among them
one who was destined to take the sceptre from his hand
and fill all Italy with his fame — and who, bui for him,
would have kept sheep in the Tuscan valleys all his
life — the glorious Giotto, of whom we are to speak pre-
sently. Cimabue, besides being a painter, was a
worker in mosaic and an architect : he was employed,
in conjunction with Arnolfo Lani, in the building of
the church of Santa Maria dell' Fiore at Florence.
Finally, having lived for more than sixty years in great
honour and renown, he died at Florence about the
year 1302, while employed on the mosaics of the Duo-
ino of Pisa, and was carried from his house in the Via
del Cocomero to the church of Santa Maria dell' Fiore,
where he was buried : the following epitaph was in-
scribed above his tomb : —

" CREDID1T UT ClMABOS PICTURE CASTRA TF.NERK J
SlC TENU1T VI YENS — NUNC TENET ASTRA POLI."*

Besides the undoubted works of Cimabue preserved
in the churches of San Domenico, la Trinita, and Santa
Maria Novella at Florence, and in the Academy of
Arts in the same city, there arc two Madonnas in the
Gallery of the Louvre (Nos. 950, 951), recently brought
there; one as large as life, with angels, originally
painted for the convent of S. Francis at Pisa, the other
of a smaller size. From these productions we may judge
of the real merit of Cimabue. In his figures of the
Virgin he adhered almost servilely to the Byzantine
models. The faces are ugly and vapid ; the features
elongated ; the extremities meagre ; the general effect
flat: but to his heads of prophets, patriarchs, and
apostles, whether introduced into his great pictures of
the Madonna or in other sacred subjects, ne gave a
certain grandeur of expression and largeness of form,
or, as Lanzi expresses it, " un non so che di forte e sub-
lime," in which he has not been greatly surpassed by
succeeding painters; and this energy of expression —
his chief and distinguishing excellence, and which gave
him the superiority over Guido of Sienna and others
who painted only Madonnas — Mas in harmony with
his personal character. He is described to us as ex-
ceedingly haughty and disdainful, of a fiery tempcra-

* Cimabue thought himself master of the field of painting :
While living, he was so— now, he holds his place among the
stars of heaven.

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me'it, proud of his high lineage, his skill in his art, and
his various acquirements, for lie was well studied in all
the literature of his age. If a critic found fault with
one of his works when in progress, or if he were him-
self dissatisfied with it, he would at once destroy it,
whatever pains it might have cost him. From these
traits of character, and the bent of his genius, which
leaned to the grand and terrible rather than the gen-
tle and graceful, he has subsequently been styled
the Michael Angelo of his time. It is recorded of nim
by Vasari, that he painted a head of St. Francis qfter
nature, a thing, he says, till then unknown ; hut the
earliest head after nature which remains to us was
painted by Giunta Pisano, forty years before. It was
the portrait of Frate Elia, a monk of Assisi. Perhaps
Vasari means that the San Francesco was the first re-
presentation of a sacred personage for which nature
nad been taken as a model.

The portrait of Cimabue prefixed to this essay (No.
694) is copied from a tracing of the original head,
painted on the walls of the Chanel degli Spagwioli,
in the church of Santa Maria Novella, by Simone
Memmi of Sienna, who was at Florence during the
lifetime of Cimabue, and must have known him per-
sonally. This painting, though executed after the
death of Cimabue, has always been considered au-
thentic as a portrait : it is the same alluded to by Va-
sari, and copied for the first edition of his book. The
composition beneath the portrait is copied from an en-
graving, in the * Histoire de V Art par les Monumena,'
of one of the frescoes in the church of Assisi which arc
attributed to Cimabue. The subject is that which is
commonly called "The Deposition from the Cross,"
representing the Saviour dead, sustained by Joseph of
Arimathea and St. John, and bewailed by the Virgin
and Mary Magdalen. The angels are taken from
Cimabue'8 ' Madonna dei Angeli :' in the original
picture there are three on each side, ranged one above
another in a line, with no attempt at grouping, and
little variety of expression.

Cimabue had several remarkable cotemporaries.
The greatest of these, and certainly the greatest artist
of his time, was the sculptor Nicola Pisano. The
works of this extraordinary genius which have been
preserved to our time are so far beyond all contempo-
rary art in knowledge of form, grace, expression, and
intention, that, if indisputable proofs of their authen-
ticity did not exist, it would be pronounced incredible.
On a comparison of the works of Cimabue and Nicola
Pisano, it is difficult to conceive that Nicola executed
the bas-reliefs of the pulpit in the Cathedral of Pisa
while Cimabue was painting the frescoes in the church
of Assisi. He was the first to leave the stiff mo-
notony of the traditional forms for the study of nature
and the antique. The story says, that his emulative
fancy was early excited by trie beautiful antique sarco-
phagus on which is seen sculptured the Chase of Hi-
polytus. In this sarcophagus had been laid, a hundred
years before, the body of Beatrice, the mother of the
famous Countess Matilda: in the time of Nicola it
was placed, as an ornament, in the Duomo of Pisa ;
and as a youth he had looked upon it from day to day,
until the grace, the life and movement of the figures
struck him, in comparison with the barbarous art of
his cotemporaries, as nothing less than divine. Many
before him had looked on this marble wonder, but to
none had it spoken as it spoke to him. He was the
first, says Lanzi, to see the light and to follow it.*
There is an engraving after one of his bas-reliefs — a
Deposition from the Cross, in Ottley's • School of De-

* Rosini, in hi* 'Storia della Pittura,' has rectified some
errors into which Vasari and Lanzi hare fallen with regard to
the dates of Nicola Pisano's works — it appears that be lived
and worked so late as 1290.

sign,' which should be referred to by the reader, who
may not have Been his works at Pisa, Florence, Sienna,
and Ovieto.

Another cotemporary of Cimabue, and his friend,
was Andrea Tafi, the greatest worker in mosaic of his
time. The assertion of Vasari, that he learned his art
from the Byzantines, is now discredited ; for it appears
certain that the mosaic workers of Italy (the fore-
runners of painting) excelled the Greek artists then,
and for a century or two before. Andrea Tafi died,
very old, in 1294; and his principal works remain in
the Duomo of St. Mark at Venice, and in the church
of San Giovanni at Florence. Another famous
mosaic- worker, also an intimate friend of Cimabue,
was Gaddo Gaddi — remarkable for being the first
of a family illustrious in several departments of art
and literature. It must be remembered that the mo-
saic-workers of those times prepared and coloured
their own designs, and may therefore take rank with
the painters.

Further, there remain pictures by painters of the
Sienna School which date before the death of Cimabue,
and particularly a picture by a certain Maestro Mino,
dated 1289, which is spoken of as wonderful for the in-
vention and greatness of style. Another painter, who
sprung from the Byzantine School, and surpassed it, was
Duccio of Sienna, who painted from 1282 (tu ?nty year*
before the death of Cimabue) to about 1339, and «• whose
influence on the progress of art was unquestionably
great." A large picture by him, representing in many
compartments the whole history of the Passion of
Christ, is preserved at Sienna: it excited, like Cima-
|)ue*s Madonna, the pride and enthusiasm of his fellow-
citizens, and is still regarded as wonderful for the
age in which it was produced.

All these men (Nicola Pisano excepted) still worked
on in the trammels of Byzantine art. The first pain-
ter of his age who threw them wholly off, and left
them far behind him, was Giotto.

[Madonna nnd InAiat Christ.,

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

MINING UNDER THE SEA.

Among the remarkable circumstances connected with
mining— an occupation which holds a place aloof from
almost every other — few are more startling to a general
reader than the carrying on of excavations beneath the
sea. That a shaft should be sunk two, three, five, or
twelve hundred feet deep, on the dry land, as a means
of getting at the valuable mineral beneath, is in itself
matter for wonder ; but that horizontal galleries should
be worked from thence beneath the bed of the sea,
seems an act of peculiar boldness.

A few scattered notices are to be met with in the
early writers, tending to show that the operations of
mining were occasionally carried on so near the edge
of the sea, or even under the bed of the sea, as to lead
to inundations which have destroyed the mines them-
selves. In our own country instances of an analogous
kind are not rare. At the Huel Mine in Cornwall,
some years back, a • lode, 1 or vein of metal, was fol-
lowed by the pickaxe of the miner to such an extent
under the bed of the sea, and the men, by working
away too greedily at the roof of their mine, had reduced
the thickness between it and the sea above so greatly,
as to lead to fears of an awful disrupture ; and the
workings in that direction were then stopped. At
Whitehaven there are coal-mines which have lor many
years been worked under the bed of the sea.

Sometimes the irruption of water arises from a river
instead of the open sea, according to the direction
which the galleries of the mine take, and the thickness
of earth between them and the water. Mr. Holland,
in his * History of Fossil Fuel,' relates a signal instance
of such an irruption. In 1833, while two gentlemen
were fishing on the banks of the Garnock in Scotland,
a slight disturbance was observed to take place in the
current of the river, which they at first supposed to
have been occasioned by the leap of a salmon ; but the
gurgling motion which succeeded led them to conclude
that the river had broken into the coal-mines which
surrounded the place on which they stood. They im-
mediately hastened to the nearest pit-mouth, gave an
alarm, and measures were taken to succour the men
below. The latter had heard the rushing of the water,
and hastened to the shaft ; but before they had reached
it, every one was immersed up to the neck in water.
The manager of the works then tried a plan which Mr;
Brunei has often adopted in the irruptions at the
Thames Tunnel, viz., to endeavour to cover the cavity
in the bed of the river with clay and other materials ;
but the flood of water was too violent, and the stream
continued to flow into the mine. At first the water
entered the mine without much agitation at the surface ;
but in the following day the orifice became greatly
larger, and the whole body of water rushed in witn
such fearful violence as to leave the bed of the river
momentarily nearly dry for a mile on either side of
the aperture ; and the fishes were Been leaping about
in every direction. At the return of the tide a renewed
body of water was supplied, which poured in as before,
until the whole workings of the pits, which extended
several miles, were completely rilled. The pressure
in the pits became so great, from the immense weight
of water impelled into them, that the confined air,
which had been forced back into the high workings,
burst through the surface of the earth in a thousand
places ; and many acres of ground were to be seen all
at once bubbling up like the boiling of a cauldron.
Large bodies of sand and water were thrown up for
hours together ; and the whole of the mining operations
were stopped, by which six hundred persons were at
once deprived of employment.

But perhaps the most notable instance of submarine
mining ever attempted was one in which the vein of

worked mineral was not only under the bed of the sea,
but the shaft was actually sunk in the sea itself! This
was the Wherry tin-mine in Cornwall. Dr. Davy in
his * Life of Sir Humphry Davy,' after detailing the
circumstances under which the philosopher became
acquainted with Mr. Gregory Watt (James Watt's son;
at Penzance, and describing the rambles which they
took together, says :— •' The Wherry Mine, the shaft of
which was in the sea, approached by a long wooden
bridge, and the workings of which were entirely under
the sea, at the short distance of about a mile from Pen-
zance, was a favourite place of resort with them. It
afforded an unusual variety of minerals, and, from iis
peculiarities, could not fail to excite a deep interest in
their minds, as a struggle of art against nature, in
which a victory was gained over the elements by means
of the most wonderful invention of the age, the steam-
engine, — which, only a short time before, had been
perfected by the distinguished father, the elder Mr.
Watt ; and this very engine, erected on the shore,
acting at a distance over the surface of the sea, and
drawing up water from beneath its bed, was one of the
earliest that had been introduced into Cornwall."

Mr. John Hawkins, in a paper in one of the early
volumes of the Cornwall Geological Society's ' Tran-
sactions/ gives an account of the origin and construc-
tion of the Wherry Mine, so interesting as to rank it
almost among the romance of mining. The first at-
tempts to work this singular mine are said to have
been made about the beginning of the last century,
when, many small veins of tin being observed to tra-
verse a rocky shoal which was exposed to view at low-
water, some persons were induced to make it an object
of mining adventure. How long they persevered in
the enterprise, and what were the mechanical aids of
which they availed themselves, are not known ; but the
works, after being sunk to the depth of a very few
fathoms in the rock, were finally abandoned.

About the year 1778 a poor miner belonging to the
parish of Breage, whose name was Thomas Curtis, had
the boldness to renew the attempt, with a capital of
only ten pounds at his command. The nature of the
difficulties with which he had to contend may be judged
from the following details : — The distance of the shoal
from the neigbouring beach at high-water is about a
hundred and twenty fathoms ; and this, in consequence
of the shallowness of the beach, is not materially les-
sened at low-water. It is calculated that the surface
of the rock is covered about ten months iu twelve, and
that the depth of water on it at spring-tides is nineteen
feet. The prevailing winds occasion a very great surf
even in summer ; but in winter the sea bursts over the
rock in such a manner as to render all attempts to
carry on mining operations unavailing.

At such a spot did Curtis proceed to sink a mine.
As the work could be prosecuted only during the short
period of time when the rock appeared above water
(a period which was still further abridged by the ne-
cessity of previously emptying the excavation), three
summers were consumed in sinking the pump-shaft, a
work of mere bodily labour. The use of machinery
then became practicable, and a frame of boards being
applied to the mouth of the shaft, it was cemented to
the rock by pitch and oakum, made water-tight in the
same way, and carried up to a sufficient height above
the highest spring-tide. To support this boarded
turret, which was twenty feet high ahove the rock, and
twenty-five inches square, against the violence of the
surge, eight stout bars of iron were applied in an in-
clined direction, four of them below, and four of ex-
traordinary length and thickness above. A platform
of boards was then lashed round the top of the turret,
supported by four poles, which were firmly connected

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[February 18,

with ihese rods. Lastly, upon this platform was fixed
a windlass for four men.

These difficult and slowly-conduc'.ed preparations
being made, it was thought that the miners would be
enabled to pursue their operations at all times, even
during the winter months, whenever the weather was
not particularly unfavourable ; but as soon as the ex-
cavation was carried to some extent in a lateral direc-
tion, this was found to be impossible, for the sea-water
penetrated through the fissures of the rock, and in pro-
portion as the workings became enlarged, the labour
of raising the produce to the mouth of the shaft in-
creased. Their predecessors, as well as themselves,
had carried on their excavations too near the surface,
which made the rock not only more permeable, but
less able to resist the immense pressure of water at
high tide, so that it became necessary to support it with
large timbers. To add to this disappointment it was
found impossible to prevent the water from forcing its
way through the shaft during the winter months, or, on
account of the swell and surf, to remove the tin-ore
from the rock to the beach opposite. The whole
winter, therefore, was a period of inaction, and it was
not before April that the regular working of the mine
could be resumed. Nevertheless, the short summer
interval which was still allowed for labour below
ground sufficed most richly to reward the bold and per-
severing projector, and to give his mine the reputation
of a very profitable adventure.

Curtis, as has been before stated, commenced this
daring undertaking with the support only of his own
slender capital of a few pounds, but he appears soon
to have been joined by others who brought money into
the enterprise ; and Curtis seems never from the first
to have entertained any doubt as to the ultimate success
of his attempt. By the year 1791 the operations had
reached the following extent : — The shaft was sunk to
about twenty-six feet in the rock ; and the breadth of
the workings was eighteen feet. The roof of the
workings was brought within three or four feet of the
water in some places. Twelve men were employed
for two hours at the windlass in hauling up the water ;
while six were working in the mine below, and the
men afterwards worked for six hours on the rock,
making eight hours in all. Thirty sacks of tin-ore
were broken on an average every tide ; and ten men,
in the space of six months, working about one-tenth
of that time, procured about 600/. worth. Besides the
small veins of tin which ran through this rock, its
whole mass was impregnated with tin to such a degree,
as to be worth the expense of raising.

In 1792, Mr. Davies Gilbert, writing to Mr. Hawkins
respecting this sea-girt mine, said : — " The course of
stanniferous porphyry near Penzance (the Wherry)
promises to make a very great mine. There are indi-
cations of the tin being continued to a great extent in
both directions, and the bottoms are growing longer,
and remain rich. A house near the green, built with
fragments of this stone, which were probably picked
up on the shore, or broken from the top of the rock, is,
I hear, to be pulled down and rebuilt with other stone,
for the sake of its tin. An adventurer told me that
three thousand pounds 1 worth of tin had been raised
from this extraordinary mine in the course of this
] resent summer."

In a subsequent letter, the same gentleman stated
that a steam-engine was at that time being erected on
ihe adjacent shore, which was to be connected with the
mine by a wooden bridge, to serve as a communication
till the engine-shaft had been sunk sufficiently deep,
and a drift worked out to the mine as a stage for
supporting the working-rods. The bridge, thus con-
structed, answered also the purpose of conveying the
ore to the shore.

Thus did this most singular mine continue to be
worked, till it had yielded seventy thousand pounds'
worth of tin-ore, when a period was put to its usefulness,
almost as remarkable as the circumstances connected
with its origin. An American vessel broke from its
anchorage in Gwavas Lake (the name of a small bay
or anchorage near Penzance), and striking against the
stage constructed out in the sea on the shoal, demolished
the machinery, filled the mine with water, and thus
put an end to the adventure.

Mr. Hawkins, in reflecting on this singular enter-
prise, makes the following remarks : — " On a review
of the improvements which have taken place in our
machinery within the last forty years, I am inclined to
think that the spirit of mining enterprise, to which
they have imparted so much animation, will soon
assume a character of still greater audacity. Perhaps
when the veins are exhausted, which lie within the
boundary of our sea-girt peninsula, we shall turn our
attention to those which extend in the same direction
beneath the bed of the ocean ; nor, when we consider
the increasing depth of our mines, can that period be
very distant. Our submarine works will then form
a new epoch in the history of mining, and by calling
forth still greater exertions of skill and industry, de-
monstrate in a more striking manner the powers of
the human intellect."

ARTIZANS AND APPRENTICES, ON THE
CONTINENT.

In England, whatever may be the state of depression
in which any branch of trade or manufacture is placed
at an unfavourable period, the workmen still remain
pretty constantly located in one spot They may be
pinched by abject poverty, or may be reduced to only
naif their wonted amount of wages, and we hear of
their distresses, their complaints, their solicitations for
relief, either political or social : but they rarely wander
from town to town ; tl.ey have their associations and
local attachments which induce them to cling to the
familiar scenes of their life, even when they have little
else to cling to.

The general temperament of the people may bo
adduced as one cause for this fixedness. The English
are not so migratory as the Irish or the Scotch. The
Irishman, in the labouring departments of life, and the
Scotchman in almost every department, will leave his
country to cam a living in a foreign place, peihaps to
return and end his days in the country which gave him
birth, perhaps to take up his permanent abode in the
country of his adoption. The working-classes in
England are not distinguished by this tendency. The
Spitalfields weaver still continues in Spitalfields, let
trade fall as it may ; he may be half-starved, or he may
be dependent on the charity of benevolent persons ;
but there he remains, linked to the spot which lias con-
tained his poor well-worn loom, his birds, and his
flowers, from his boyhood. So it is in other parts of
England. The workmen, as a class, show no tendency
to wander from town to town, or to leave England for
foreign countries : individuals do so in every occupa-
tion ; but there seems to be among our countrymen
generally, or at least among the working population,
a sort of attachment to home, however miserable, which
runs counter to a rambling and unsettled life.

A • tramp,' or travelling migratory workman, is
seldom looked upon in a favourable light in this
country. He is a kind of homeless wanderer, un-
attached to any specific locality ; whereas on the Con-
tinent an itinerant workman is by no means a rare
personage. Mr. Symonds, in his * Arts and Artizans/
while speaking or the condition of the weavers in

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6*3

Scotland, has occasion to allude, in the following terms,
to a class of men such as we are now speaking of. It
may be necessary to say that Mr. Symonds gathered
his information while acting as Assistant Commissioner
on the Hand-loom Weavers' Enquiry : — " The most
dissolute and immoral class of weavers in Scotland are
an itinerant body called • tramps/ of whom at least
two-thirds are said to be Irish. They take looms as
journeymen from the master of a shop, who procures
webs for them from the manufacturers ; and not un-
frequently, after they are three-quarters woven, they
cut them out of ihe loom, and decamp with them.
They are notorious as the most idle, profligate, noisy,
drunken, and quarrelsome set of people in the weaving
districts. Embezzlement of weft is the chief vice of
the weavers ; it is ' the sin which most easily besets
them ;' and that it is carried on to a very considerable
extent there appears no question. " Mr. Symonds pro-
ceeds to show trie manner in which this system injures
the honest weaver, by enabling the fraudulent one to
undersell him in the market ; and further describes
how women, employed oy certain persons in the busy
seats of manufacture, • tramp ' about the country, and
obtain a sale in the weaving districts for silk-yarn
which has been dishonestly obtained.

This, however, is the worst phase of * tramping.'
It is downright roguery, which is by no means ne-
cessarily connected with the condition of a migratory
workman. There are individuals, if not classes, con-
stantly roaming about England, the object being to
obtain a living by honest labour in any town where the
latter is to be obtained. Still, however, this, as we
have before observed, is not a characteristic of English
workmen ; and we must go to the Continent to observe
the system in all its remarkable features, both as
respects apprentices or learners, and journeymen.

Switzerland and Germany, as we shall presently
describe, are the countries wherein this system is prin-
cipally followed. In France it is not so largely prac-
tised. The various classes of workmen are not con-
nected and classified exactly as in England, but they
exhibit peculiarities worthy of notice, which will serve
to show the contrast not only between the French and
the English, but also between the French and the
German workmen. The silk-weavers of Lyons, one
of the most important operative bodies in France, are
thus depicted by M. Monfalcon, in his • Histoire des
Insurrections de Lyon, en 1831 et en 1834.' The silk-
weavers of Lyons are divided into three classes, whom
we may, in English parlance, call small masters,
workmen, and apprentices ; besides the manufacturers
whose capital and commercial connections set all to
work. The first of these are the chefs d ateliers, or
men who have three, four, or half a dozen looms, and
a fixed residence. The second class go by the name
of convpagnons, they work some of the looms of the
chefs a ateliers, with whom they live, having no house-
rent to pay. and no responsibility of any sort. These
men and women (for both sexes are included) receive
half of the money gained by the looms they work,
the other half going to the chef &atelier for wear
and tear of machinery, house-rent, risk, &c. M.
Monfalcon says that "these compactions in general
have no activity and no spirit of order : they compose
a floating and very unequal population. When there
is plenty of work, the country in the neighbourhood of
Lyons furnishes many workmen, and formerly a great
number used to migrate from Piedmont anil Savoy.
When the silk trade is dull, most of these compagnons
leave the town, and turn their hands to something
else. The system of compagnonage is deemed by think-
ing men a great evil at Lyons ; for the workmen are,
in general, unintelligent or imprudent men, who,
either through want of ability in their trade, or through

want of economy, have never been able to get together
the very small capital necessary to buy a loom or two
of their own. The apprentices are generally youths
from fifteen to twenty years of age, who are taught
their business by the chefs ^ateliers, with whom and
for whom they work. Besides these, there are a
younger kind of workpeople called lancers, mere
children, whose work is to throw (lance) the shuttle in
certain pattern silks. M. Monfalcon gives a sad
picture of these youths and boys. * 4 Generally speak-
ing/' he says, '• neither apprentices nor lancers have
received the least rudiment of education. They are
turbulent on days of riot and revolt, through a mere
love of noise. But these boys were seen during the
three days of November, 1831 (the period of a dreadful
riot at Lyons), creeping among the horses, and aiming
blows at the dragoons, which were so much the more
dangerous as it was impossible to foresee them.
During the six days of April, 1834 (when a second riot
took place in the same city), many of them explored
the streets of Lyons armed with pistols or bad guns.
These unfortunate little wretches, during the whole
of our sad collisions, have shown the greatest disregard
of danger, and, at times, the most complete contempt
of life."

The migratory workmen and apprentices of Germany
and Switzerland will afford us details of a less painful
nature. While Mr. Symonds was collecting informa-
tion on the Continent, in reference to one of the
Government Commissions, he had an opportunity of
becoming acquainted with the peculiar wander-schaft
system of Germany and Switzerland. In many parts
of these countries there is an immemorial usage, that
no apprentice can obtain his freedom, and become a
master, until he has spent a certain number of years
under a kind of itinerant probation, and in following
his avocation beyond his native country. He is fur-
nished on setting out with a book, in which his various
masters insert certificates of his service and conduct.
This book is called his * wander-buch.' The rambler
is generally assisted not only by the trade to which he
belongs, in towns where tnere is no employment for
him, but by the donations of travellers. Mr. Symonds
was frequently asked, by well-dressed young men,
with knapsacks on their backs, for money on the road.
On one occasion, the * wanderer ' had been through
Switzerland, part of Bavaria, and Wirtemberg, and
was then on his way home to Baden : he spoke French
admirably, and gave a lucid and excellent account of
the most salient features in the condition of the woik-
men in the different countries he had been in. Mr.
Symonds comments on the bad effects which this
begging system must have a tendency to produce in
the manly and independent tone of feeling on the part
of the youn^ men, though it must be remembered that
public begging is in every other case most strenuously
prevented in Germany, and that they only are licensed
to ask for assistance. On the other hand he points
out the advantages which accrue in other respects,
giving to them a range of knowledge and varied ac-
quirements such as it would be vain to look for in a
similar class in England.

Mr. Symonds quotes a letter which he received
from a gentleman in Austria, giving further details in
connection with this matter. " You are aware that
here, as over almost every part of Germany, the trades
of tailors, shoemakers, furriers, &c. are carried on by
masters who employ journeymen on the ' wander-
schaft,' as it is called, that is to say, workmen who go
from town to town, stay a winter at one place, a
summer at another, and receive generally, besides
board and lodging, a certain sum weekly. This is
usually about a dollar to three florins (three to fixe
shillings) ; tailors, 20 per cent. less. When they go

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[.February 18,

from one town to another, it is a recognised privilege
of theirs, from time immemorial, to ask assistance from
passers-by as they travel aiong, and at the towns they
pass through ; and at every town there is a ' herberpe,'
as they call it (auberge ?), where the master of the inn
has agreed with the guild of that trade to lodge them at
a very low rate ; so that when they arrive, they immedi-
ately ask for the tailors', or shoemakers', &c. • herberge/
and by that means can travel very cheaply : a very bad
system, which was originally intended to give them an
opportunity of improving themselves in the knowledge
of their art ; but it is peculiarly favourable to vaga-
bondizing. At the moment I am writing this, a nlk-
v caver has applied to me for assistance. From his
passport I see he has been in Italy, and then in
Hungary, and is returning to the Grand-Duchy of
Nassau, whence he came."

Most of the trades in Austria and Prussia are said
to be supplied more or less by itinerant journeymen ;
and the whole social system of a workman's family is
very different from what is observed in England. The
Voralberg (a part of the Austrian dominions), con-
taining about ninety thousand inhabitants, sends out
masons and house-builders td nearly the whole of
Switzerland, and the neighbouring provinces of France.
They leave early in spring, afld live very sparingly
during the summer, cooking for themselves a kind of
pudding or soup of flour and Indian corn, which, with
bread, and now and then a glass of wine (a cheap
beverage in those countries), suffice for their nourish-
ment. They return home in autumn, where they have
little to do during winter, excepting to fell wood, &c.
in the forests, and other chance Work. The children
leave the country at the same time in thousands, to
herd cattle in Suabia and Bavaria ; receiving perhaps
twenty shillings, besides board and lodging, for their
services, a suit of home-spun lineri clothes, and two
pair of shoes, and perhaps a bag of flour* which tbey
manage to cook for themselves on the way, and return
with nearly the whole of their earnings. While the
strong and healthy men are those Working as journey-
men in foreign countries, and the children go out to
* farm-service ' for about the s<ime Space Of time,
the women and old men cultivate the land, While the
girls weave— all the branches of the family meeting
again in the autumn.

How different is all this from the usages presented
among the bulk of English artizans !

Dutch S< filers at the Cape of Oood //iop*.— In every farm-house
the style of living, the hours, and customs, appear nearly, if not
entirely, similar ; sufficient for the more wealthy, And within the
means of the less opulent, but little room if thus afforded for the
exercise of that idle vanity of display, which, preferring empty
show to solid comfort, is productive of so much misery in our
own country. There it scarcely any variety even in the con-
struction of the houses ; all have the ' stoep,' or raised foot pave-
ment, running along the front, which is to the Cape Boer what
the ' hearth ' is to the Englishman, the abode of the penates, the
seat of honour of the house. Any disrespect shown to this
sacred spot is much felt by them ; any offence or insult is greatly
aggravated by the stoep being made the theatre of its perpetra-
tion ; and I have known considerable irritation caused by a
stranger, ignorant of their peculiarity in this matter, inadver-
tently bringing his horse upon it. On entering is the hall, ib
which the family sit, containing two or three small tables and a
few venerable-looking chairs, with moveable cushions very softly
stuffed. Immediately facing the hall, and generally communi-
cating with it by folding doors, is the ' eating-room ;' while to
the right and left, also opening into the hall, are two bed-rooms,
one of which is always reserved as the best, or guest's room ;
behind are the other two bed-rooms and offices. All these rooms
are commonly paved with large square bricks, painted or ena-
melled with some sort of composition, which contributes to orna- I
nient as well as cleanliness, though its smoothuess renders necee- I
sary some care in walking upon it, lit the spare room* J always J

noticed, in addition to the more ordinary furniture, a massive
old wardrobe : the feather Iwdt were remarkably Soft, the sheets
white as snow, and as clean. To quarters such as these they
welcome the stranger on the slightest introduction, rivalling iu
this respect the far-famed hospitality of the East : though their
portion may be scantier, the good-will with which they give it
is not less abundant. Their occupations lead them to rise early,
and before six the ' vrow,' or gude woman of the house, has her
shining brass kettle of coffee on the equally resplendent braiier
Of charcoal which supports H ; and, sitting down by it, proceeds
to dispense Its contents to all comers. At eight the ' vrow,' re-
spectfully approaching her hushand, who has returned from his
work, notifies that breakfast is on table. Of this meal she her-
self seldom partakes, at least not in company with the other
members of the family ; remaining at a side-table, she prepares)
the tea and coffee, which a female servant hands to the rest of
the party, while she hersell rises and presents a cup to her hus •
band. The breakfast-table is well covered with eggs, ham, bil-
tongue or cured venison, cold meats, fresh butter, and excellent
home-made brown bread : one of the children is called upon by
the rather to say grace, unless a very aged person, as a grand-
father or grandmother, be present, in which case they ask the
blessing. Breakfast concluded, all depart to their respective
tasks, from which they return at twelve to dinner r this meal
consists of substantial joints of fresh or corned mutton, and fre-
quently a couple of fowls, butter, cheese, and excellent whole-
some unadulterated wiue : pastry is often added, but all is put
on the table at once. The dinner service is invariably white,
and, as well as the table-cloth, is always most scrupulously clean.

Iu large families, where the father has sons of such an age as to
be able to superintend the business of the farm, he usually in-
dulges himself with a siesta, and contrives to be in or about the

house about three o'clock, at which hour a servant hands round
a tray containing small cups of tea, with milk, frequently in a
silver ewer, and two cut-glass jars> One filled with sweetmeats,
and the other with water, in which staud two or more very small
silver forks, with which they help themselves to the confection,
and , replace them in the water. The labour of the day being
over, about seven of the family assemble in the hall, and a glass
of wine is handed to each ; few speak except the master of the
house, and he is listened to with respect. A woman's voice is
seldom heard, save in answer to a question. At eight tfce vrow
announces that supper is ready : this meal much resembles the
dinner in its component parts; it is, perhaps, their principal
meal : about nine a small glass of spirits, which they term a
* lopee,' is brought to each of the men, and the party separates
for the night. The manners of these hospitable and simple
people are instinctively and innately polite; with less action
than the French, they display more warmth than the English,
and never did any class of men make on my mind a more fa-
vourable impression than the Dutch Boera of the Cape Colony.
—£«*/»**'* Notts and Reflection* during a Rambk in At Eati.

The Yo*g-T*t-K*ang River. — Unless the Mississippi tod
Missouri are to be considered as one river, then the Amazon
being the first, the Yang-tse-Keang is the second river m the
world in point of length. , If you consider, however, the count-
less canals which it supplies with water, to keep under constant
irrigation the surrounaiog country, the commerce which it car-
ries on its breast, the fruitfulness displayed on its banks, where
the richness of the foliage and the greenness of the herbage are
quite astonishing j if, lastly, you add the depth and volume of its
waters, it has some claims, 1 conceive, to the very first place
among the rivers of the globe. In going up the river, nautical I y
speaking, the left, geographically the tight bank of the river,
is the most picturesque side. The ranges of hills' were fre-
quently quadruple, the nearest sweeping down gracefully
and gradually towards the river. The other side fbr a long way
is very flat. The neat little villages were frequently, if not
generally, placed in an angle formed by a canal and the great
river. The villagers as we passed crowded towards the mouth
of their canals. Great, doubtless, was their astonishment at the
noble, and, to them, novel sight of a British fleet of war-ships and
transports, the latter glistening with scarlet. None of these men
had ever seen a ship more powerful or larger than a Chinese
junk of war. No greater astonishment would probably have
been felt by a pigmy of yore at first view of any of the giants,
" men of renown, H who lived in «« those days." — Tht Im* IW

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er>

[English Cattle-Drover.]

CATTLE-DROVERS.

The industry required in producing the common food
of the people, although simple and often rude in its
nature, involves extensive and varied arrangements,
and a division of employments nearly as striking
as the complicated processes which excite so much
admiration in manufactures. How varied are the con-
trasts between the different classes engaged in rais-
ing food and those who are employed in producing
clothing and shelter, and yet the humblest services in
each of these departments of industry are indispen-
sable and invaluable. The subject of the cut leads us
more immediately to the consideration of one of the
useful occupations connected with the supply of ani-
mal food. The number of cattle in Great Britain is
estimated at eight millions, and their value, at 10/. per
head, amounts to the large sum of eighty millions
sterling. One-fifth of the above-mentioned number,
or 1,600,000, is annually consigned to the butcher.
His are the last, except those of the cook, of a long
chain of operations. London requires a supply of
about 160,000 head of cattle annually, and by far the
larger proportion are reared in the northern part of
the island, though they are fattened in the south. The
rich lands are more profitably employed than in sup-
plying food to young beasts whicn are hardy enough
to thrive on the coarse grasses of uncultivated wastes.
Hence, as the most profitable distribution of the soil, lean
cattle are the riches of a country which is not adapted
to cultivation ; but when required for the butcher, then
the produce of the best soils may be advantageously
employed in fattening them. In the districts where

no. 699.

they are reared, the rent of the land is paid out of the
profits of the live stock, for they are the chief wealth
of the tenant, but in those where they are fattened rent
is derived from a greater variety of sources, and the
manure obtained from stall-feeding constitutes no in-
considerable proportion of the profit, for without this
restorative the soil would soon become less productive.
No plan therefore is so advantageous or economical
as that under which the uncultivated lands are devoted
to the rearing, and the richer soils to the fattening of
stock. On their road from Scotland to the midland,
eastern, and southern counties of England the ser-
vices of a particular class of men is a distribution of
labour equally convenient. The farmer of Norfolk
need not leave his farm on a distant journey to the
north, but purchases lean stock at the fairs in his own
neighbourhood, to which the cattle are driven by those
who make it their sole business. In the • Survey of
Dumbartonshire ' there is an account of the progress
of the cattle on their journey :— " The cattle bred in
the West Highlands are, at the age of two years, or
two years and a half, removed into Dumbartonshire
and the neighbouring counties. At three years old
they are carried to the northern counties of England,
and so by degrees southward, enjoying at each remove
a milder climate and a richer pasture than before, till
they attain their full size, and reach the butcher in
prime condition." The pastures on which they are
supported before they commence their journey to the
south are very coarse, and only cattle which have never
known better fare can pick up a living upon them.
After feeding here during the winter, they are sold in
April or May, and it is evident that if they have sim-

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[February 25t

a not deteriorated during the severe season, tbey will,
en that is over and there is the near prospect of
abundant food from the summer pastures, letch a
higher price than was given for them before the winter
with its possible scarcity. During summer they get
into better condition, and are purchased by buyers
from districts where turnips are cultivated, on which
root and hay they are fed in the second winter. In
spring they perhaps reach the rich pastures of Lincoln-
shire, Northamptonshire, or the marshes of Essex,
and are put upon them for the early grass, on which
they soon become fat. For stall-feeding, they are
bought lean at the great autumn fairs and fattened
during the winter. The prices vary in different years,
but the proportions remain much the same, and the
small Scotch cattle usually average per head, at fifteen
months, 3/. to 4/. ; at two years, 6/. or 71. ; at three or
three and a half, 10/. or 12/. upwards. Every hand
through which they pass derives a profit, as advan-
tageous to the public interest as it is to his own.

The great trysts or fairs in Scotland for the sale of
cattle exhibit the wealth of pastoral districts to great
advantage. Those held at Falkirk are the largest,
from its central situation, both for the breeders in the
north and west of Scotland, and for the buyers for the
English market. Every variety of cattle bred in Scot-
land, including those from the Western Islands and the
Hebrides, are to be found at the Falkirk trysts, which
are held on different days in the months of August,
September, and October, the last being the largest, as
the breeders must then dispose of all the stock which
they do not intend to keep through the winter. At
the October tryst there have been 50,000 cattle, 30,000
sheep, and 3000 horses on sale ; and the number sold at
the three together is about 80.000 cattle, 50,000 sheep,
and 5000 horses, which fetch an aggregate sum of
650,0C0/., averaging the cattle at 11. each, the sheep at
lay., and the horses at 1G/. Some of the cattle are in
good store condition, others are almost ready for the
butcher, but the greater proportion are lean, and arc
purchased to be fattened in the south. Cattle-dealing
partakes a good deal of the excitement of gambling, as
the profits may be largely increased by the state of the
markets, the supply of fodder, and many unforeseen
contingencies ; and they are enhanced also by adroit-
ness and aptness in making bargains. A man who
spends his whole life in attending fairs is, therefore, a
character sui generis; but he has none of the low
trickery of the horse-dealer.

From the great Scotch trysts the cattle are sent off
to the south in droves of from two to three hundred,
under the charge of a person called a ' topsman.' The
following account of the further progress of the ani-
mals is irom the treatise on * Cattle/ in the • Library
of Useful Knowledge :* — "The topsman generally goes
before, to see that grass is secured at proper stations,
and to make all necessary arrangements. He has
under him other drovers, in the proportion of one to
about thirty cattle. The journey to Norfolk occupies
about three weeks. The expense in summer and
autumn is from 1/. to 1/. 4*. per head ; and in winter,
when they are fed with hay, they cost 10*. or 15*. per
head additional. The cattle are purchased and paid
for by the drovers, sometimes in cash, but more gene-
rally a part of the price is paid in bills, and sometimes
the whole of it. In some instances, where the farmer
has confidence in the drover, he consents that the
purchase- money shall be remitted from Norwich, or
that the money shall be paid when the jobber returns
home. The business is hazardous, and now and then
unfortunate; but the drover considers himself well
paid, if, every expense of the journey being discharged,
he clears from 2*. Qd. to 5*. per head ; and when he
lias either money or credit sufficient to take a drove of

600 or 1000 head of cattle to the market, that is a good
remunerating price." The drovers are said to be a
respectable and deserving class of men. They are very
different from the class who drive the cattle into Smith-
field market from the outskirts of London, where they
meet another class, the country drovers ; but neither the
one nor the other are anything more than mere driven
of the cattle to market. The • drover,* properly so
called, requires either capital or credit.

ON THE BLASTING OF ROCKS.

The question whether or not the invention of gun-
powder has increased or lessened the liability of the
occurrence of war, is one which has been mucji con-
tested ; but it is at all events satisfactory to know that
this formidable substance has been, and promises still
further to be, a most powerful working agent in the
hands of the civil engineer. The extensive operations
now carrying on in the neighbourhood of Dover,
where, by the agency of gunpowder, large masses of
rock are being removed to prepare the way for the
South- Eastern Railway, afford a remarkable exempli-
fication of the process of blasting, which may deserve
a brief explanation.

The blasting of rock by the aid of gunpowder is the
substitution of a working agent which acts suddenly,
for one which proceeds step by step. It is one grand
effort, instead of a succession of efforts. It is a sudden
disruption, whereby a mass of rock is detached, instead
of being picked off piecemeal. The explosive or ex-
pansive force of gunpowder is the agent which effects
this object; and much discussion has arisen respecting
the precise mode in which this force is to be estimated.
The explosion is considered as the extrication of a
permanently elastic fluid by the ignition of the gun-
powder, the elastic fluid or gas occupying nearly five
hundred times as much space as the grains of gun-
powder had done. Some scientific men have supposed
that the nitre contains air between two and three
hundred times denser than the free atmospheric air;
and that this, in struggling for liberation, exerts a force
equal to that of a thousand atmospheres : that is. that
if the pressure of the atmosphere be taken at fifteen
pounds in the square inch, the bursting force of ignited
gunpowder is equal to nearly seven tons upon the
square inch. Count Rumford even went so far as to
estimate the bursting force as equal to ten thousand
atmospheres, but this has been deemed extravagant.
Be the amount what it may, however, the powerful
mechanical force thus exerted is very evident, and
could not long escape the notice of the civil engineer.

The purposes to which blasting by gunpowder would
be likely to be applied in civil operations are, the
detaching of the mineral riches in our mines and
collieries, the excavation of tunnels, and the clearing
away of cliffs and rocks for the formation of docks,
harbours, quays, roads, railways, &c. In our mines
immense quantities of gunpowder are annually used,
for the purpose of blasting the coal and iron-stone,
and thus saving the labour of the pickaxe. Brindley
was the first to adopt the bold step of blasting a tunnel
through a hill as a means of carrying a canal on a
level, instead of making a detour round the hill, or
ascending it by means of locks. In the year 1776 he
completed the first navigable tunnel, at Harecastle in
Staffordshire, which is upwards of a mile in length.
Since that period many remarkable examples of tun-
nelling have been presented, in all of which, if the
soil were hard and rocky, blasting by gunpowder has
been the chief working agent. At Sopperton, on the
canal joining the Thames with the Severn, there is a
tunnel three miles in lenglh, forced through the solid
rock by means of gunpowder. In France, a tunnel

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seven miles in length has been lately completed. In
the famous Box Tunnel, on the Great Western Railway,
the excavation through hard rock has been of almost
unexampled magnitude, and has been executed with
the aid of one hundred and thirty tons of gunpowder f
In the structure of the Breakwater at Plymouth, the
government purchased a hill or quarry of hard rock on
the neighbouring shore, detached the rock in large
masses by means of blasting, and constructed the
breakwater with the masses thus procured. For the
construction of the Royal Victualling Yard near
Devonport, a recess or basin has been scooped out of
solid rock by blasting, the rock furnishing a great
part of the material for the structure, and the build-
ings occupying the place where the rock had before
been. Between Folkstone and Dover, the South-
Eastern Railway is to be carried along the very face
of the cliffs, suspended as it were midway between
land and sea ; ana to prepare the line of direction for
this purpose, vast masses of jutting cliff are now being
removed by blasting.

Such are a few instances to illustrate the kind of
engineering operations in which blasting by gunpowder
is available; and we may next briefly describe the
mode in which the blasting is effected.

The object of blasting is generally not to shatter the
rocky substance into a thousand pieces, but to detach
it in a mass. In some cases, however, the utter dis-
ruption is desired. But whichever plan be adopted,
the gunpowder is inserted in a hole bored in the rock
itself, proportionate in size to the amount of effect to
be produced. This hole is bored horizontally or ob-
liquely, according to the depth of the strata of which
the rock is composed, or to the position which the
whole body of rock occupies. The hole may vary
from half an inch to three or four inches in diameter,
and from a few inches to seven or eight feet in length.
The tools employed are few in number and simple in
construction, and consist principally of augers and
chisels of various diameters. The hole is produced
chiefly by a kind of chisel called a * jumper,' which
(if the hole be small), is held in the left hand of the
workman, and struck by a hammer or mallet held in
the right, the jumper being moved about between the
successive blows. If the bole is of large dimensions,
one man guides the jumper, adjusting its position and
moistening it with water, while another man strikes
the blows with the hammer. Sometimes, instead of
using a hammer, the men employ a very heavy jumper,
much longer than the hole which they are about to
bore ; and, lifting this in and out of the hole, suffer it to
perforate the rock by the weight and momentum of its
descent.

When the hole has been bored to the proper depth,
the dibris, or broken rock, is scraped out, and the
whole prepared for the reception of the powder. The
hole being about half filled with powder, a long sharp
instrument called a * pricker ' is thrust through it, as
a means of forming a channel or recess for the recep-
tion of the ' priming.* Fragments of burnt clay,
pounded brick, stone, and similar earthy matters, are
then rammed into the hole on the top of the powder,
the • pricker * still remaining inserted in the centre.
This ramming down of what may be termed the * wad-
ding ' is the most dangerous part of the operation ; for
if there should be metallic particles enough present to
produce a spark, an explosion would be very apt to
follow. Many an eye and an arm has been lost by
this cause.

When the powder has been firmly rammed in by
the earthy matters laid on it, the • pricker ' is with-
drawn, leaving a kind of tubular or conical space.
The space is then filled with loose powder ; or else a
tube is made of wbeaten or oaten straws, fitted end to

end, filled with powder, and inserted in the cavity.
By either of these means the powder is brought into
connection with the external atmosphere, where it is
placed in contact with a ' slow match,' consisting
generally of a bit of soft paper, prepared by immersion
in a solution of saltpetre. All is now ready. The
workman applies fire to the paper, and immediately
gives a signal for every one to run beyond the reach of
danger, he doing so likewise. A minute or so elapses
before the fire reaches the powder ; but when it does,
an explosion is heard, and the rock is rent asunder.
If the charge of powder was too small, the rending is
insufficient ; if too large, the rock is not only dissevered,
but is shattered into small fragments and scattered all
around: the proper quantity of powder is therefore
determined by experience.

Many improvements have been gradually introduced
in the method of blasting ; some of them highly curi-
ous in their nature. It used to be supposed that the
blasting would not be effective unless the powder were
rammed tightly down by strata of rock and earth above
it ; and hence numerous accidents which occurred to
the workmen. But it is now found that dry loose sand,
simply poured into the hole on the top of the gun-
powder, will effect the end desired. A writer in the
• Encyclopaedia Britannica' states that this method is
now so much adopted, ' particularly at Lord Elgin's
extensive mining operations at Charlestown in Scot-
land, where much attention is paid to the security and
comfort of the artificer, as well as to everything in-
teresting to science. The practice of using loose sand,
instead of pounded stone rammed with force, has been
in use several years, — it is believed, since about the
year 1810." Sand was similarly used in the extensive
quarrying operations which became necessary in cut-
ting down a part of the Caiton-hiU, to form the new
approach to the city of Edinburgh, where upwards of
a hundred thousand cubic yards of rocky matter were
removed, and one thousand pounds worth of gunpowder
used in blasting.

But the most interesting circumstances connected
with blasting are those which relate to the mode of
ignition or kindling. Various contrivances, under the
names of • port-fire,' • slow-match,' and * fuzee,' have
been applied to this purpose. The ' slow-match ' is
explained to be a piece of paper saturated with a liquid,
which causes it to consume slowly or smoulder when
ignited, instead of burning away at once. A ' port-fire '
is a paper tube, filled with a composition of meal-
powder, sulphur, and saltpetre, rammed moderately
hard : it is a contrivance used to kindle the powder in
a hollow cavity ; but it is more adapted for the firing
of guns and mortars than for blasting. A ' fuzee ' or
4 fuze ' is a hollow tube of wood, filled with composi-
tion which has been rammed tightly down : it is in-
serted in a bomb-shell, which is not required to explode
until a certain period after being shot from the mortar
or piece ; and therefore the composition is such as will
burn slowly till it ignites the powder contained within
the shell. Various modifications of these contrivances
have been applied to the firing of gunpowder for blast-
ing ; but they bid fair to be superseded by one of a
very remarkable and scientific character.

Among the effects which the passage of electricity
produces, is one due to the existence of any obstruction
to the free and unopposed transit. Those who are any
way acquainted with the " galvanic battery " are aware
the current therein excited will travel to any distance
alon£ a wire ; and that if the wire be interrupted in
its circuit at any part by a small interval, intense heat
is excited, which may be made to ignite gunpowder or
similar substances placed in the intervening space. It
occurred to Colonel Pasley, to whom was consigned
the office of raising the sunken * Royal George ' at Spit-

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[February 25,

head, that a system of blasting analogous to that em-
ployed on land might be adopted to shatter the ill-
fated ship ; and that the powder, conveyed down into
the water for this purpose, might be ignited by means
of galvanic agency. The idea was a bold one, and the
success has been signal. For months Colonel Pasley
had to contend against great difficulties, in the con-
struction of canisters or cylinders to contain the powder,
in the means of preserving the powder from being
wetted when the canisters were lowered into the sea,
in the adjustment and fastening of the canisters to the
sunken ship, in the connection of the wires of a vol-
taic battery with the gunpowder within the canisters,
and in the tiring of the charge without injury to those
who had to superintend the operations at the surface
of the water. These difficulties had to be overcome
one by one ; and the result has been the establishing
of a system which seems likely to be extensively avail-
able both in land and sea operations. The galvanic
batteries were on board a vessel on the surface of the
water ; and from the batteries wires descended through
the water to the canisters (some of which contained three
thousand pounds of gunpowder!), fastened to the ex-
terior of the bottom of the ship. When the galvanic
current was excited, it passed through the gunpowder
contained in the canisters, ignited it, and caused an
explosion which shattered the enormous hull of the
sunken vessel to fragments. The statements which
have appeared so abundantly in the newspapers, relat-
ing to the saving of guns, spars, fragments, &c. from
the wreck, forms a sequel to these operations; for
after the shattering of the wreck had been effected by
the explosions, divers went down day after day for
months together, fastened the dislodged guns and
relics to chains depending from barges above, and gave
signals whereby the articles were hauled up by the
aid of capstans.

From that time, the use of the galvanic battery in
igniting the gunpowder for blasting has attracted the
attention of engineers. Very recently an explosion
on an unexampled scale has taken place near the
Shakspere Cliff at Dover; a million cubic yards of
chalk-rock having been loosened and precipitated at
one blast. Three pits or shafts were sunk, commu-
nicating with hollow chambers, in which eighteen
thousand pounds of gunpowder were deposited. The
wires of a galvanic battery were placed in connec-
tion with the powder, and the whole charge was fired
at once. A great saving of expense will accrue to the
company, by die sudden removal of a mass of rock
which would otherwise have had to be removed by
hand -labour, to form the line of railway.

Sktp in Mecklenburg. — The Saxon or Merino sheep, how-
ever, is the animal which bests remunerates the Mecklenburger,
and forms the especial object of his care and attention. They
were brought to these countries from Saxony, about the year
1811, and are now universal. The greatest pains are taken to
produce fleeces as nearly equal as possible over the whole flock.
The nature of this sort of sheep is so little known in England,
although an object of such vital importance to the British
Australian Colonies, that 1 venture to hope a description of it
may be acceptable. The Merino is a long-legged, narrow-
bodied, ugly animal, with a fleece varying in weight, in propor-
tion to its coarseness (although fine wool is specifically Heavier
than coarse) from 2 lbs. to 3 lbs. The staple is very close and
thick growing, greasy or oily to the feel, elastic and soft, very
tenacious, and formed differently from any other wools, with a
number of regular, minute bends, or curls, in each hair. There
are always different sorts of wool upon the same sheep, and that
animal is of course the most esteemed which produces the highest
qualities in the greatest proportion. Breeding successfully with
this view is a most difficult science, requiring years of pains-
taking intelligence to attain. I was present at the exhibition of
22 rams at the cattle-show of Gustrow in Mecklenburg, in May,

1837. The specimens to an inexperienced eye appeared much
alike : they were carefully washed and shorn, the fleeces num-
bered and sent to the most eminent wool -staplers at Leipsic,
where they were submitted to accurate assortment and valua-
tion. The Merino is supposed to be indigenous to Spain,
and known to have been first introduced into Germany in
1765 by the then Elector of Saxony. Shortly after (about
1775), another small flock was brought to Austria, and sub-
sequently in 1786, and 1803, to the imperial domains of Hol-
ditch in Hungary, and Mannersdorf in Austria. From these
small beginnings has this valuable animal been spread over these
immense countries. But there are two distinct breeds, which
differ materially in shape and the quality of their wool. 1st. —
The lufantado, or Negrctti, distinguishable by shorter legs and
a stouter make ; the head and neck generally short and broad,
the nose short and turned up, and the body round like a barrel.
The wool is often matted upon the neck, back, and thighs, and
grows upon the head to the eyes, and upon the legs to the rery
feet. The grease in its fleece is almost pitchy, and as the dust
becomes incorporated with it, the washing is a matter of diffi-
culty and risk : the greatest care is at all times necessary iu this
operation. A warm mild day, without harsh or drying wind, is
indispensable, and care must be taken never to rub the fleece
with the hand. A marl-pit with a depth of from eight to ten
feet of clear water is a favourite washing-place, and is thought
to liecome better every year. The sheep are thrown in from a
stage in the evening, and made to swim the whole length of the
pond (twenty to thirty yards), between rails, with boards on one
side, from which women or boys assist them through their bath,
by placing wooden rakes or crooks under their chins, and so
passing them onwards. When the water lias dripped from the
fleeces for an hour or two, the sheep are put into a house for the
night, as close together as possible, in order to cause the greater
evaporation, and the next day they are swum three or four times
through the same pond, the last time the head being rubbed a
little, and they are kept in the house (well supplied with clean
straw), on dry food, for three or four days, until tlie wool, bj
sweating, as it is termed, has recovered its characteristic softness.
The fleece of this species is generally thick, closely grown, and
abundant. Ewes may average two and a quarter and even three
and a quarter pounds by careful feeding (which, however, must
never approach to feeding to be fat, else the wool becomes wiry
and hard) ; and rams and wedders may bring four pounds, and
even six pounds. This is the animal which came to Austria
from Spain. The other distinct breed is the Saxon importation,
and is called Escurial. Their shape differs markedly from tlie
Infantados — longer legged, with a long spare neck and bead, with
very little wool on the latter : a finer, shorter, and softer cha-
racter in its fleece, but deficient in quantity. One and a half
to two pounds is frequently the amount from ewes, and two to
three pounds from rams and wedders. On being presented to
the Elector of Saxony in 1765, they received the appellation of
Elect orals. A great deal of trouble has been taken to combine
the advantages of both breeds by crossing, but with doubtful
advantages; and although the mixed breed has been found
suitable for crossing with sheep not thorough-bred (called Mee-
tisen), yet experience has shown that, to breed with advantage,
all the rams, be the ewes what they may, should be either
thorough-bred Infantados* or Escurials, and that the same strain
of blood should be p ers evere d in : I know an instance where a
large and valuable flock has been for years retrograding in con-
sequence of one unsuitable ram having been introduced twelve or
fourteen years ago. Good rams are of course becoming every
year more attainable, but there are examples of breeders iu
Saxony who still obtain for distinguished rams as much as one
hundred, two hundred, and even three hundred Louisd'ors (of
nineteen shillings each). — Communications of Mr. Carr to the
Agricultural Journal.

Convenation. — Whosoever hath his mind fraught with many
thoughts, his wits and understanding do clarify and break up,
in the communicating and discoursing with another ; he tosseth
his thoughts more easily ; he marshalleth them more orderly ; be
seeth how they look when they are turned into words : finally,
he waxeth wiser than himself: and that more by an hour's dis-
course than by a day s meditation. It was well said by Themis-
tocles to the king of Persia, " That speech was like cloth of Arras,
opened and put abroad ; whereby the imagery doth appear in
figure ; whereas in thoughts they lie but as in packs. — Lord
Bacon • Euayt.

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Yew-tree, at Fountains Abbey, Hipon, Yorkshire.]

THE YEW.

Some of the finest : nd most venerable yews are
found in churchyards, and in many instances are coeval
with the edifice around which they cast their solemn
shade. Generations after generations have been borne
to their last resting-place, and the brief memorials of
their life have perished by the hand of time and forget-
fulness, while the yew flourishes for hundreds of years
afterwards. Like all the productions of nature des-
tined for a protracted existence, its growth is slow ; a
century elapses before it reaches maturity. There is
reason to believe that the fine old tree represented in
the cut was planted before the Saxon period of our
history was brought to a close by the Norman con-
quest. Fountains Abbey, where it still flourishes,
was founded in 1 132 by Thurston, Archbishop of York,
for certain monks who separated themselves from the
Benedictine Abbey of St. Mary's, York, in order to
adopt the more austere discipline of St. Bernard.
Burton, in his * Monasticon,* gives the history of Foun-
tains Abbey on the authority of a monk of Kirkstall,
and we may briefly follow him, as it will be seen that
our tree has some connection with his tradition :— " At
Christmas, the Archbishop, being at Ripon, assigned
to the monks some land in the patrimony of St. Peter,
about three miles west of that place, for the erecting
of a monastery. This spot of ground had never been
inhabited, unless by wild beasts. The prior of St.
Mary's, at York, was chosen abbot by the monks, be-
ing the first of this monastery of Fountains, with whom
they withdrew into this uncouth desert, without any
house to shelter them in that winter season, or pro-
visions to subsist on, but entirely depending on Divine
Providence. There stood a large elm-tree in the

midst of the vale, on the lower branches of which they
put some thatch and straw ; and under that they lay,
ate, and prayed, the bishop for a time supplying them
with bread, and the rivulet with drink. Part of the
day some spent in making wattles to erect a little
oratory, whilst others cleared some ground to make a
little garden. But it is supposed that they soon
changed the shelter of their elm for that of seven yew-
trees, growing on the declivity of the hill on the south
side of the abbey, all standing at the, present time
(1685) except the largest, which was blown down
about the middle of the last century. They stand so
near each other as to form a cover almost equal to a
thatched roof. Under these trees, we are told by tra-
dition, the monks resided till they had built the mo-
nastery." What singular vicissitudes have taken
place even under their shade ! The abbey itself is
now a ruin — perhaps the finest of the kind in England.
Three centuries have passed away since its choirs and
belfries were silenced ; and yet a duration of four cen-
turies from the building of the abbey to its dissolution
is not a brief space, even in the history of a nation.

Of the yews at Fountains Abbey, the Seven Sisters
as they were called, five still flourish, and may do
so perhaps for many centuries to come ; for even when
the original trunk decays, the final ruin of the tree is
not accomplished. This peculiarity of the yew is ex-
plained as follows by Mr. Loudon, in his • Arboretum :'
— " When the top of the trunk becomes cracked by the
action of storms upon the boughs, the rain finds ac-
cess, and in time causes decay ; and the dead leaves
and dung of bats and birds, &c. falling in, combine
with the rotten wood to form a soft rich mould, into
which a bud shooting out from a neighbouring part (if
not actually covered with the mould) is naturally

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[February 25,

drawn by the moisture and surrounding shade, and
transformed into a root As the fissure widened and
deepened by the alow but sure progress of decay, this
root would descend and thicken, till it ultimately fixed
itself in the soil below. After a lapse of perhaps
several centuries, decay, gradually advancing, would at
last reach the circumference of the trunk, and produce
a rift on one side ; through this the rotten mould would
fall out, gradually exposing the root it had conducted
downwards, and the combined influence of light and
air acting upon its juices would cause it to deposit
annual layers of true wood, and to be covered with a
true bark. Meanwhile it would have shot up a stem
near its point of union, and have formed for itself an
independent head and branches." In cases where this
process takes place, the existence of a yew-tree on a
particular spot might continue as long as the world
endures.

The origin of the custom of planting yew-trees in
churchyards is still a subject of considerable per-
plexity. As the yew was of such great importance in
war and field-sports before the use of gunpowder was
known, perhaps the parsons of parishes were required
to see that the churchyard was capable of supplying
bows to the males of each parish of proper age ; but
in this case we should scarcely have been left without
some evidence on the matter. Others again state that
the trees in question were intended solely to furnish
branches for use on Palm Sunday, while many sup-
pose that the yew was naturally selected for planting
around churches on account of its emblematic character,
as expressive of the solemnity of death, while from its
perennial verdure and long duration it might be re-
garded as a type of immortality. Another origin has
also been ascribed to the custom. In the works of a
very ancient Welsh bard, two churches, the minster of
Esgor and that of HSnllan, are spoken of as famous
for the prodigious yew-trees which surrounded them.
HSnllan signifies an old grove, and it has therefore
been inferred that the church occupied the very site
where the Druids had performed their rites before the
introduction of Christianity into Britain. St. Augustine
was enjoined by Gregory the Great not to destroy the
pagan, places ot worship which he might find in this
island, but to convert them into Christian churches ;
and if, as it has been suggested, the words kirk and
church are derived from cerrig, a stone or circle of
stones, it may possibly be correct to conclude that in
some cases the first Christian churches in Britain were
planted in the* groves sacred to Druidical rites, and
within the circular stone enclosures where the priests
of this worship officiated. Dr. Stukely was of opinion
that the round churches were the most ancient in Eng-
land. From custom and taste, the planting of yew-
trees in churchyards might easily be perpetuated from
the pagan period, as we see in the present day, when
the tree has ceased to be applicable to the objects for
which it was once so much valued.

The use of the yew for making bows is noticed by
the earliest Greek and Roman writers. Archery was
the • arm' for which England was most famous before
the invention of gunpowder. Several of our old sta-
tutes forbid the exportation of yew, and its importation
was enforced by several regulations, such as obliging
foreigners to furnish ten bow-Btaves for every butt of
wine which they brought to England. Other kinds of
wood were also used for bows. Roger Ascham, who
published his * Toxonhilus ' in 1544, with a view to
preserve or revive tne manly old English weapon,
says : — " As for brasell, elm, wych, and ashc, experience
doth prove them to be mean for bowes; and so to con-
clude, ewe, of all other things, is that whereof perfite
shootinge would have a bo we made." A preference
seems to have been given to foreign yew when Ascham

wrote. Mr. Loudon was informed, in 1837* by the
principal bow-manufacturer in England, that the
" common yew, with sufficiently clear and knobless
trunks, is no longer to be found either in England or
in any other part of Europe ; and though," he said.
" English yew is occasionally used by manufacturers*
yet bows are now almost entirely made of different
kinds of wood from South America." Ascham states
that the best bows were made of the bole of the yew.
" The bough," he says, *• is knotty and full of pruines ;
the plant is quick enough of caste/* but it was apt to
break. Is not then the poet in error when he describes
an ancient yew still existing as having perhaps fur-
nished weapons to

" Those that crowed the tea,
And drew their sounding bows at Agincourt ;
Perhaps at earlier Cressy or Poictiers.'*

No European tree is so excellent for the cabinet-
maker as tne yew. It unites hardness with a close
grain ; is of a fine orange-red or deep brown colour,
often beautifully veined, and is capable of receiving a
high polish. The sap-wood, which forms only a small
portion, is (juite white, and also very hard. The yew
is also admirable for many other purposes, for which
it would be used if it were less scarce. Gilpin states
that it was a saying in the New Forest, that a post of
yew would outlast iron. When the yew-trees on Box
Hill, Surrev, were cut down, about half a century ago,
the half of one tree was sold for 50/., to be used in
cabinet-work for inlaying. The yew makes an excel-
lent and well-sheltered fence. For ornamental pur-
poses, the trees selected should be females, as the
berries which they bear add greatly to their beauty.
They may be eaten with perfect safety ; but the shoots
and leaves are poisonous in many cases to some ani-
mals, whether in a green or dry state, while others eat
them with impunity. When the Dutch style of gar-
dening prevailed in this country, the yew was in great
esteem, as it was more pliable under the shears than
either box or juniper.

The dimensions of the tree in the cut are as follows :
—height, fifty feet ; girth at three feet from the ground*
twenty-two feet eight inches ; at five feet, twenty-six
feet five inches. It is the largest of the now remaining
five, and forms the end of the row. In the list of re-
corded trees of this species given in Mr. Loudon's • Ar-
boretum/ we find one mentioned still larger. It stands
in Darley Dale churchyard, Derbyshire, and though the
height is not greater, yet at the base the girth is twenty-
seven feet ; at two feet from the ground, twenty-seven
feet seven inches ; at four feet there are protuberances
which swell the girth to thirty-one feet eight inches.
The trunk is forked at seven feet from the base. The
tallest yew-tree in England is in the churchyard of
Arlington, near Hounslow, which is fifty-eight feet
high. A famous yew at Ankerwyke, near Staines, is
thirty-two feet five inches in girtn at eight feet from
the ground, and the diameter of its head is sixty-nine
feet At Tisbury, Dorsetshire, there is a yew whose
circumference is thirty-seven feet : it is perfectly hol-
low, and a few years ago a party of seventeen persons
breakfasted within its capacious Dole. In many church-
yards in Scotland and Wales, as well as in England,
there are yew-trees of great antiquity. At Queen wood,
near Tytherly, Wilts, there are some fine avenues of
this tree. One avenue consists of one hundred and
sixty-two trees, averaging a height of thirty feet,
planted about two hundred years since. The other
comprises one hundred and twenty trees, average height
twenty-four feet, and it is believed they were planted
about one hundred and seventy years ago. The usual
growth of a seedling is six or eight feet in ten years,
and about fifteen feet in twenty years.

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PLANTS USED IN DYEING BROWN AND
BLACK.

The materials used in dyeing, for the most part, de-
rive their chief value in reference to their powers of
producing the various shades and qualities of red, blue,
and yellow; since the combination of different propor-
tions of these three will produce an almost interminable
series of other colours. There are, it is true, some
ingredients employed which give a green dye, but for
the most part the varied tints of green — whether
known as sea-green, apple-green, grass-green, pea-
green, or parrot-jrreen — are produced by a double
dyeing, first with blue and then with yellow, or first
with yellow and then with blue. There" are, however,
substances specially employed in giving a black or a
brown dye ; and as we have in former numbers no-
ticed the chief vegetable substances used in dyeing
red, blue, and yellow, we will here mention a few cal-
culated to give black or brown tints.

One of the most valuable substances employed to
impart a black dye is galls, a remarkable tumour or
excrescence growing on various trees. Sir J. E. Smith
designates them as *' morbid excrescences, originating
from the most vigorously-growing parts of plants, in
consequence of the attacks of insects, chiefly of the
hymenopterowi order, and of the genus q/nips" The
same authority describes the mode of formation, with-
out reference to any particular kind of tree or gall,
somewhat as follows: — The parent insect is provided
with a sharp sting, serving to perforate the branch,
leaf, or bud in which its egg is to be deposited ; and in
some cases the puncture made is very deep. As soon
as the egg is hatched, the young larva, or maggot, sti-
mulating the vital principle of the plant, causes the
f)art in which it is lodged to assume a great degree of
uxuriance, displayed in various extraordinary excres-
cences, foreign to the nature of the plant in itself, but
each appropriated to the particular kind of insect from
whose operations it springs. The original perforation
is soon closed up and entirely obliterated. At length,
the maggot having fed on the juices of the plant, co-
piously directed to the injured part, undergoes its
changes to a chrysalis, and finally to a winged fly like
its parent : it then escapes from its confinement by a
fresh perforation, and the gall, being left empty, soon
dries or hardens.

Such arc briefly the steps in the formation of a
*• gall-nut.'* The oak is the tree which yields the
main supply of galls. The light spongy bodies, grow-
ing on one of the English species of oak, and vulgarly
termed " oak-apples, " are galls; they grow from the
stalks of the leaf or flower, or from the young twigs ;
and there is sometimes a red juicy berry-like excres-
cence, something like a cranberry, found on the leaves.
The two kinds used principally in dyeing and ink-
making arc called the " common" and the " Aleppo"
gall, the former being brought from the South of
Europe, and the latter from Western Asia. The
Aleppo gall-nut is a round body, of an olive-green
colour : it is hard and heavy, and frequently exhibits
small protuberances on its surface. When broken it
is found to consist of four distinct parts, which admit
of being separated. The external or cortical covering
is of a close fibrous but thin texture, highly astringent
to the taste. The part that immediately follows is very
similar to resin, both in its fracture and lustre ; its
colour is dark yellowish-brown ; it is very brittle, and
its taste nauseously astringent and bitter ; on a red-hot
iron it becomes black, exhales a peculiar odour in
great abundance, consumes without flame like the cor-
tical covering, and leaves a little ash. It is bounded
on the interior by a pale yellowish-brown shell, which
has many of the properties of ligneous fibre. Lastly,

this shell encloses, when the gall-nut is sound, an ova]
kernel, about a quarter of an inch in length, of a brown-
ish cream colour, or sometimes of a bright chocolate :
it is insipid unless chewed ; but if chewed, a faint
sweetish flavour is appreciated, like that of a bad
almond.
The common gall-nut differs considerably from the

I receding, and is easily distinguished. It is of a yel-
owish colour, not so heavy as the Aleppo gall, nor
possessed of the same resinous fracture ; it is also
larger, being about the size of a nutmeg ; less astrin-
gent, and not capable of making equally good infusions
with water ; on which latter account it is much less
valued.

From very early times the gall-nuts of Syria have
been esteemed for their excellence as a dye ingredient.
They are shipped principally from Aleppo, Smyrna,
and Tripoli ; and hence in some respects have arisen
their commercial names : but they are brought from
the interior country. The finest quality of all are
those obtained near Mosul, about ten days' journey
from Aleppo, and thence conveyed to Aleppo for
shipment to Europe. Other kinds nearly as good are
found near the shores of the Tigris and Euphrates, still
farther eastward. The inhabitants of Kurdistan have
this trade chiefly in their own hands : they bring the
gall-nuts from the interior country to the Levant ports
during the winter months. The bluest specimens are
the highest in price, and next to them those of a green-
ish colour ; the whitest sort is the cheapest, a circum-
stance which has often led crafty dealers to dye white
galls to give them greater apparent value.

Beckmann states, that in the oak-forests of Hungary,
Moravia, Croatia, and Sclavonia the farmers and fo-
resters used to notice excrescences growing on the
trees ; the men subsisted principally by the breeding
of hogs in the forests ; and they were wont to con-
sider the frequent occurrence of these excrescences as
a calamity, since, when they appeared in abundance,
the crop of acorns, the food of the hogs, was observed
to be considerably diminished. But they afterwards
found that these excrescences, which they called
44 knoppem " or " knobben " (equivalent to the com-
mon English term " knobs "), were known and valued
as a means of producing a black dye ; and that the
profits arising from the sale of this new article of trade
far surpassed that derived from the acorns. In the
year 1774 the inhabitants of these provinces obtained
permission to export this article by sea to* the Austrian
harbours in the Mediterranean ; and it thenceforth
became an article of commerce.

As a substitute for gall-nuts the ancients frequently
made use of acorn-cups ; and indeed the latter are still
used in Italy, from whence, in latter times, they have
found their way into Germany and France. They are
imported from the Greek islands and Smyrna. It is
recorded that in 1779, when the supply of " knoppem "
in the Austrian dominions temporarily failed, a mer-
chant of Vienna caused upwards of twelve hundred-
weight of acorn-cups to be sent from Smyrna, which
he sold with great advantage. These cups, and the
acorns they contain, are very large ; the former are
about two inches in diameter, are woolly within, and
furnished with woody scales on the external surface ;
the latter are about two inches long, and almost en-
tirely enclosed by the cup, so that the top only is
visible.

Gall-nuts, and the acorn-cups just alluded to, when
pounded, yield an infusion which becomes the founda-
tion of one of the most valuable black dyes, whether
silk, woollen, cotton, or linen be the fabric under
operation.

Another class of vegetable products useful in im-
parting black dye is the bark of several kinds of trees.

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The bark of some trees, such as the qusrcus (oak J, the
berberis (barberry), and the fraxinus (ash), contain
restringent or colouring particles useful in dyeing.
The oak is a tree whose bark yields a very valuable
infusion, both for dyeing and tanning. A description
of the country-occupation of oak-bark peeling was
given in one of our early volumes.

A variety of vegetable substances yield small Quan-
tities of black dye ingredient, useful in some of the
modifications of dyeing, but not in the larger, and more
extensive processes. A black colour is obtained from
the juice of the casheu>-nut t which will not wash out,
and even resists the process of boiling with soap or
alkalies. The juice of a variety of the cashew found
in the East Indies yields a dye having a brownish tinge.
The juice of the common sloe might be made to yield
a bluish-black dye; but the quantity of this plant
available is too small to make its use important Log-
wood, although most extensively employed in impart-
ing a black dye to cloth, cannot so consistently be
deemed a black as a red dye ; for it gives the latter
colour as a preparative for the action of other ingre-
dients which give the black tinge ; its principal effect
is to give a lustre and beauty to black colours, which
would otherwise appear what is often termed " rusty."
The leaves of the arbutus uva ursi have been some-
times employed as a substitute for galls, in giving a
pretty good black colour to cloth which has previously
been dyed blue. Gall-nuts, however, used in conjunc-
tion with red oxide of iron, constitute the main and
important agent in black dyeing.

Broum colours are in many cases imparted by a
mixed application of black and red, different pro-
portions or which will give a varied series of browns.
But there is a class of colours called f axons, which con-
stitute a brown not capable of being given by mixed
black and red ; such colours arc largely used in dye-
ing, and they are generally produced by the action of
some one substance, according to the tint. Hairmi-
peels form one of the most useful of these agent*.
These peels constitute the green covering of the nut ;
they are internally of a white colour, which is con-
verted into brown or black by exposure to the air.
The skin, when impregnated with the juice of walnut-
peels, becomes of a brown or almost black colour, as
any one may have noticed who has seen the peelers at
work. If the decoction of walnut-peels be filtered and
exposed to the air, its colour becomes of a deep brown ;
the pellicles in evaporation are almost black, and the
liquor detached from these yields a brown extract,
completely soluble in water. A copious precipitate,
of a fawn colour, approaching to ash, is produced in a
decoction of walnut-peels by means of a solution of tin,
and the remaining liquor has a slightly yellow tinge.

The affinity of cloth for the colouring-matter of
walnut-peels is said to be very strong, so that the dye
is taken readily and is durable. In the latest edition
of Berthollet's work on dyeing it is said— " When it is
wished to dye with walnut-peels, they are boiled for a
full quarter of an hour in a copper, in quantity pro-
portionate to the amount of stun 1 , and to the depth of
shade that is desired. For cloths, the deepest shades
are usually begun with, finishing with the lighter ones;
but for woollen yarn it is commonly the clearest shades
that we begin with, and the deepest shades are made
at the end, with the addition of husks for each parcel.
. . . The root of walnut gives the same shades, but
for this effect the quantity must be increased : it must
be reduced to chips."

Sumach, the bark of the birch-tree, sandal-wood,
and many other vegetable substances, are employed
occasionally to give various tints of fawn, drab, or
brown, according to the circumstances under which
the operation is conducted, the material of the woven

fabric, and the quality of the dye ingredient. But
many of these have been already spoken of while treat-
ing of plants used in dyeing yellow ; and the rest call
for no particular remark.

Decadence of a State, — The templet of antiquity, the cattle*
of the middle age* are poetical in their decline, for the spirit*
that peopled them in the days of their splendour still wander
through the cherithed ruins; but what spirit would coodeecend
to haunt the mint of a rope-walk f Trade has no spirit, and
sets none in movement : it knows of nothing but positive specu-
lations, and sets nothing in movement but legs and arms ; but
let the wheel stop, and poverty, wretchedness, beggary, are the
immediate consequences. Alas, to ke poor it no greater hard-
ship than to be rich, for our wants iucrease with our power of
gratifying them ; but to become poor, that is bitter, for it carries)
with it an involuntary feeling of a fall ! How much more, then,
when it is a nation that has become poor. Spain is not poor,
they will tell me, for it possesses inexhaustible resources) within
its own soil ; but of what worth are those resources to people
who know uot how to bring them into play ? At the time of
the Moon, Spain contained twenty millions of inhabitants ; —
some say thirty; — now it does uot contain ten. The land was
then rich and nourishing, and sufficed for all the wants of a
luxurious population. Of course it must theu have possessed
resources, that became dormant in proportion as the population
melted together. The land remains uncultivated because roads
and canals are wanting for the conveyance of its produce. Tins
plains of Castile grow the finest wheat in the world ; and when
grown it is given to the pigs, because the grower has no means
of conveying it to a market. There is no trade but aloug the
coast, and even there it is almost exclusively in the hands of
smugglers. The laud that once monopolised the trade of both
the Indies, the land that could fit out the Invincible Armada for
the conquest of England, po ssesse s at present not a single man-of-
war, and lias no commerce but what is carried on by smugglers !
— Letters of the Counteu Hakn-Hahn ; /rum the Foreign Quar-
terly Heview.

Village* of /As Warow; m Briluh Gmana.— The Mawrilm
grow in clusters at thick at treat can grow ; the Warow selects
one of these groves, and fells the trees about four feet from the
surface, on their stumps he lays a floor of the split trunks; tbe
troolics are generally adjacent for the roof, but if uot, the eta
leaf serves ; lumps of clay are laid on the floor, on which fires
are made, which at night illuminate tlte tops of the adjacent
trees, as if they were actually inhabited ; but the habitation is
an irregular hut, raited oti a platform just above the level of the
water, which in these regions is three feet above the earth for
three-fourths of the year. Some of them can contain 150
people. Their duration is coeval with the supply of aroo (starch
or arrow-root), or eta starch, or tlie completion of the formation
of a corial or canoe. When an eta tree begins to fructify, it is
cut down, a large slice it cut off one side, and the stringy sub-
stance of the interior is cut into shreds, the remainder of the
trunk serving as a trough, in which it is triturated with water,
by which it disengaged a considerable quantity of starch ; tbe
fibrous particles are then extracted, and tbe sediment or aroo
formed into moulds like bricks. This is spread out, on stones
or iron plates, over the fire, and makes a very nutritive, but at
the same time most immasticable bread — it must be unavoid-
ably bolted, being so very viscous that chewing absolutely locks
the jaw : it is, nevertheless, excellent to thicken soup, sind is a
general specific for diarrhoeas and dysenteries, which in these
aquatic regions are the prevailing diseases. In the green part
of the trunk, a beetle of about an inch and a half long, with a
long snout, which lays its eggs, and in about a fortnight grubs,
about the site of the two first joints of the- forefinger, makes its
appearance. These are a favourite fry both of the Warows
and the Creoles; they are scarcely distinguishable from beef
marrow. — HiUhoum"e Memoir, in Geographical Journal, vol. iv.

The difference between desultory reading and a course of
study may be aptly illustrated by comparing the former to a
number of mirrors set in a straight line, so that every one of
them reflects a different object, and the latter to the same mirrors
so skilfully arranged as to perpetuate one set of objects in an
endless series of reflections.— Gueeeee at Truth,

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

A DAY AT THE ROYAL PORCELAIN-WORKS, WORCESTER.

[Potter's Wheel—' Thrower, * Ball-maker/ and Wheel-turner,' at work.]

Those among our readers who may have witnessed
the remarkable " Chinese Exhibition " near Hyde
Park (and well would it be if the price of admission
permitted all classes to visit this singular memento of
a singular nation), cannot fail to have observed the
sumptuous specimens of porcelain there deposited — the
vases, jars, cups, and other vessels; and may then
have conjectured whether or not England can produce
specimens equal to these. China has, by a sort of pre-
scriptive right, been deemed the land of porcelain, the
country whose inhabitants occupy the first rank in the
production of this most delicate, chaste, and elegant
semi-transparent material. Thanks to the inquiries
and ingenuity of travellers, manufacturers, and men of
science — who have discovered the nature of the prin-
cipal substances employed by the Chinese, the localities
in which they may be found in Europe, and who have
employed the services of painters far more skilful than
any to be found in China — our country now produces
specimens of porcelain possessing all those claims to
admiration which the " Celestial Empire " has put
forth for its manufacture, and — in respect to pictorial
embellishment — others in which our Asiatic friends
cannot for a moment share.

The " good city of Worcester" is one of the spots in
England where the manufacture of the higher kinds
of porcelain is located. Those topographers and local
historians who love to trace the steps of royalty, have
recorded the visits of King George and Queeu Char-
lotte to the " Royal Porcelain-works " at Worcester,
as one of the most marked features in the district ;
and indeed the high fame which Worcester porcelain
has acquired gives the town reason to be somewhat
proud in the possession of such a manufacture. For

no 700.

a long period two eminent firms among others, viz.,
Messrs. Flight, Barr, and Barr, and Messrs. Chamber-
lain, carried on this branch of manufacture inde-
pendent of each other : but these two firms have now
merged into one, which combines the resources of
both; and the " Royal Porcelain-works" of Messrs.
Chamberlain and Co. — an extended firm — are now the
representative of both. To the courtesy of these gentle-
men, then, our thanks are due for permission to view
and describe the processes conducted in this highly in-
teresting establishment.

Everybody knows that porcelain is the same ma-
terial as that which is commonly termed 'China'
(a name which in itself does homage to the original
producers of the substance), but the meaning of the
name is not so well known. One authority* says
— "The Portuguese traders were the means of in-
troducing the fine earthenwares of China into more
general use in Europe ; and the name assigned to the
fabric, as distinguishing it from the coarser descriptions
of pottery of domestic manufacture, was most pro-
bably given by them— porcellana signifying, in the
Portuguese language, a cup ;" while another authority t
states — " It has been satisfactorily shown by Marsden,
that the word porcelain, or porcellana, was applied by
Europeans to the ware of China, from the resemblance
of its fine polished surface to that of the univalve
shell so named ; while the shell itself derived its
appellation from the curved or gibbous shape of its
upper surface, which was thought to resemble the
raised back of zporcella, or little hog." Leaving the
reader to select between the ' cup/ and the ' little hog,*
* * Lardner's Cyclopaedia.'
f Davia : * The Chinese/ chap. 17.

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as the forerunner of the name, we will quit this matter
by stating that the manufacture to which our attention
will be directed is strictly that of porcelain in its most
highly finished form, and does not include the com-
moner kinds of produce classed under the general
name of pottery.

The factory is situated near the cathedral of Wor-
cester, and not far from the Severn, which flows
through the city ; and from the upper windows a
glance across the Severn shows the blue outline of
the Malvern Hills in the distance. In this as in many
other large factories there is a central court or area,
surrounded by buildings of various forms and dimen-
sions, suited for the processes of manufacture. The
general arrangement of these may be indicated by
following the processes in their natural order.

First, there is the building in which the crude ma-
terials are brought into a plastic or working state.
Here we see a ponderous circular stone, nearly four
tons in weight, working round in a circle on its edge,
and crushing beneath it the stony ingredients of the
porcelain. Then, in another part of the building, is a
circular vessel, provided with a stirring apparatus,
for further preparing the substances by the aid of
water. The mixing-room, in another place, contains
the vessels in which the pounded ingredients are
worked up into a smooth kind of clay, fitted for the
purposes of the workman.

Following the prepared material to the hands of the
workman, we visit the ' throwing-room,' where the
remarkable process of forming circular vessels is con-
ducted. This is a long and busily occupied shop, con-
taining a great number of men employed as we shall
describe presently. Kilns in gicat number aic dis-
posed conveniently, with respect not only to the
• thro wing- room,' but to the other workshops ; for
there are * biscuit-kilns/ ' glaze-kilns,' and 'cnainel-
kilna,' according to the state of the process in which
heat has to be applied to the ware.

Various rooms, called ' placing-room,' • dipping-
room,' 4 white-ware room/ * modelling-room,' * mould-
ing-room,' 4 pressing-room/ &c, arc disposed round the
open area, for the prosecution of various processes in
the course of the manufacture ; to which succeed others
known as the 4 minting' and 'burnishing' rooms, in
which those elaborate decorations are given to the
manufactured article which form one of the most
marked features 01' distinction between it and common
pottery-ware. Then we come to the warehouses in
which the finished product is stored. Lastly, there arc
shops, drying-rooms, and kilns, for the manufacture of
the • tessellated tiles,' which are now becoming so ex-
tensively used.

We have glanced at the buildings, and now let us
glance at the workmen, and the remarkable processes
by which the costly specimens of porcelain arc pro-
duced. The rough ingredients, too, must have a
passing notice.

The ingredients to form porcelain may to many
persons seem rather strange. They consist of common
flint, flint in the calcined state, Cornish stone, Cornish
clay, and calcined bone, all ground and mixed to-
gether with water, so as to form a beautifully fine and
plastic clay. Numerous and intricate have been the
researches into the respective value of different kinds
of material, and the particular quality which each one
gives to the porcelain. The clay employed, as its
name imports, is brought from Cornwall, and is found
to possess qualities wanting in most other kinds of
English clay. For the commoner kinds of pottery,
clay brought from Dorsetshire and Devonshire is
largely employed ; but for the more exquisite spe-
cimens of porcelain this Cornish clay is preferred.
Until about a century ago, the strangest views were

entertained in Europe resj>ecting the composition and
nature of Chinese porcelain ; and it was not till after
many researches that Reaumur found that the mixture
of the two peculiar kinds of earth found in .China,
called pe-tun-Ue and hao-lin, produced porcelain. It
then became an object to discover whether any earths
similar to these existed in Europe; and at length Mr.
Cookworthy, about seventy years ago, discovered ia
Cornwall two kinds of earth which nearly answered
the desired character. From that time to the present
various improvements and additions have been made
in the ingredients employed, with a view to produce a
porcelain possessing hardness, strength, firmness of
texture, whiteness of colour, and a capacity of receiv-
ing and retaining colours and gilding on its surface.
The Cornish clay is by far the most costly clay em-
ployed in such works ; but for the finer porcelain it is
deemed indispensable. We may perhaps say, in ac-
counting for the respective value of the ingredients,
that the clay gives the plastic or working quality, the
flint imparts the vitreous or strengthening quality,
and the bone aids in producing the semi-transparency
for which porcelain is so deservedly admired.

The ingredients have different degrees of hardness,
but all must be reduced to an impalpable powder
before being mixed. They are laid on a circular bed,
as represented in the cut, and ground by the pressure

[Grinding the Flint, Clay, fee]

of the bulky and ponderous stone roller. They are
then transferred to a large circular vessel containing
water, and by means of stirrers, sieves, and other ap-
pliances, brought into the condition of a creamy liquid,
totally free from any gritty particles. It is astonish-
ing to see the degree of fineness thus produced, as
manifested by the extreme minuteness of the meshes
or interstices of the sieve through which everything
must pass before being deemed fitted for the manu-
facture.

Various depositories or receptacles are provided,
in which the ingredients are placed separately during
the course of their preparation ; and from these they
are conveyed to the ' mixing-room,' where they are
combined together. Here the experience and judg-
ment of the manufacturer are brought into operation :
he has to determine not only the number and kind of
ingredients which will produce a ware fitted for
service, but also the proportions in which these in-
gredients are to be combined. It is not improbable

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th.it each eminent firm has a recipe peculiar to itself,
as is known often to be the case in the glass manu-
facture, and many other manufactures in which several
ingredients are employed. Without making any guess
then, as to the proportions used in the establishment
to which our details relate, we may proceed to state
that the ingredients are mixed together in large square
vessels, the utmost attention being paid to the intimate
union of all the different kinds. The mixture pre-
sents the appearance of a kind of drab-coloured liquid,
which is then evaporated to a certain degree of thick-
ness or stiffness by heat applied beneath it. In short
it is by Hie agency of heat that the cream-like liquid
becomes a plastic workable clay, fitted for the hands of
the potter. Constant attention is necessary throughout
this process, to equalize the rate of evaporation and to
retain the ingredients in perfect combination while it
is going on.

To the ' throwing-room * and the • potter's wheel '
we now direct our attention, where a process is con-
ducted which has never failed to excite the astonish-
ment of a spectator who witnesses it for the first time ;
nay, there are many who find the comprehension of
the process almost as difficult after many visits as after
the first. Never docs any one agent appear a more
complete master over another than the potter is of his
clay : he seems as if he could do anything, everything,
wim it. At one moment his mass of clay is a shape-
less heap ; at another a circular cake ; then a ball ;
then a pillar or cylinder, hollow or solid ; then a jug ;
then a basin ; a sudden turn converts it into a bottle,
or a plate, or a saucer. His hands work and form the
plastic material with a rapidity almost inconceivable ;
and we often doubt where the clay seems to come from,
and whither it goes, when one form is being ex-
changed for another. It is true that, in practice, the
potter does not give all these several forms to one in-
dividual mass of clay ; but a visitor has frequently an
opportunity to see that the man can do so. What a
pity, some may say, that such an elegant process (for
such it assuredly is) should be thrown away upon wet
dirty clay; but in truth the peculiar state of the clay
is the very circumstance which gives to the potter such
a command over it. But let us look at the arrange-
ments of the potter's shop before we describe his ope-
rations.

Why such a room should be called a * throwing-
room,' or why the formation of circular vessels should
be called * throwing,' it does not seem very easy to
determine. There is a circular motion in pottery-
throwing and also in silk-throwing ; but why the same
term should be applied in both cases, or wliy applied
at all, we do not see. Wc believe, however, that
' throw ' is a provincial name for a lathe ; and if so, an
explanation is easily provided, by considering the
potter's wheel as a lathe or throw. The throwing-
room, however, be its appellation good or bad, is an
oblong room, containing a great number of benches
and pieces of apparatus, at which men arc employed
making circular articles of soft porcelain.

Our frontispiece shows one of the most ancient
working tools, or machines, which any branch of
manufacture can exhibit — the 'potter's-wheel.' Scarcely
any other machine has lived so long and undergone so
little change. On the Egyptian monuments and on
other records of antiquity there are representations of
the potter's-wheel similar in all the essential particu-
lars to those of our own day ; indeed nothing can be
more simple than the construction. In the potter
himself, and not in the wheel, lies the merit of the
work executed. The potter sits on a kind of stool or
bench, immediately benind a small circular whirling-
table. His knees are placed one on each side of the
central support of the machine, so as to give him a

command over it. This, which we have called the
whirling-table, is simply a circular piece of wood,
whose breadth is sufficient to support the widest ves-
sel that is to be made : it is fixed on the top of a ver-
tical stem or shaft, so that if the shaft be made to
rotate, the piece of wood must rotate likewise. The
apparatus is rather below the height of a common
table. The clay which is to be formed into a vessel is
put upon the circular board, and there remains till
fashioned ; the board and the shaft beneath being made
to rotate horizontally, while the potter with his hands
gives the form to the mass of clay.

Every potter, or • thrower,' is attended by two boys,
who are called the • ball-maker ' and the « wheel-
turner.' The former of these has before him or near
him a mass of prepared clay, having precisely the
quality and consistence required for the potter's ope-
rations. He separates the clay into smaller masses,
each suited to the manufacture of one particular kind
of vessel, and works it up into a rude kind of ball,
convenient to be handled by the thrower. He is in
every way the servant or helper to the thrower. The
services of the * wheel-turner ' depend on the manner
in which the circular piece of wood is made to rotate.
In the early state of the porcelain manufacture in
England, the perpendicular shaft beneath the board
was put in motion by a wheel provided with spokes,
which the ' thrower' moved with his foot ; the labour
however was so great, that this method became un-
suitcd to the production of large articles. Another
method in past times was, to have a crank in the middle
of the shaft, with a long rod working upon it, and
motion was given to the lathe by the rod being pushed
backward and forward. The customary mode at the
present day is, however, to have a rope passing from
a pulley upon the perpendicular shaft to a large wheel
at a distance, which wheel is turned by a boy under
the directions of the * thrower.'

With this very simple kind of lathe, and with a few
small tools still more simple, does the workman pro-
ceed to fashion all those articles of porcelain which
are circular in their form, whether cups, basins, or
vessels of any other kinds. When the shape is too
diversified to be deemed circular, other modes of form-
ation must be adopted, of which more hereafter. Let
us suppose, as an example, that a hemispherical basin
is to be formed. The man places a mass of clay, in
size and consistence suited for the purpose, upon the
bed of his lathe or wheel, striking it down rather
forcibly as a means of making it hold firmly to the
wood during the process of formation. He gives
directions to his ' wheel-turner ' to set the machine in
motion, and then forms the shapeless mass into a ves-
sel, chiefly by his hands. With his hands, wetted in an
adjacent vessel of water, he presses the clay while
rotating, and brings it into a cylindrical form ; this
cylinder he forces again down into a lump, and conti-
nues these operations — squeezing the clay into various
shapes — until he has pressed out every air-bubble from
the body of clay, a precaution of very great importance.
Then pressing the two thumbs on the top of the mass,
he indents or hollows it, as a first germ of the internal
hollow of the vessel. Once having the least semblance
of a cavity within, he proceeds with a rapidity almost
marvellous to give both the outward and the inward
contour to the vessel. With the thumbs inside and
the fingers outside, he so draws, and presses, and
moulds the plastic material, as to give to the outside a
convexity, to the inside a concavity, and to the whole
substance an uniform consistency, without breaking
the clay or disturbing the circular form of the vessel.
It will be seen on a moment's consideration that this
circular form is due to the rotation of the clay, while
the fingers and thumbs are stationary, just as a turner

JL 2

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[February. 1843.

holds bis cutting-chisel stationary while the piece of
wood is rotating.

During the pressure of the hands upon the clay, a
minute change in the amount or direction of the pres-
sure would transform the basin into a saucer, or into
any other vessel whose degree of curvature is very
different from that of a basin. The oddness of these
transformations might often make a spectator smile,
were not his admiration excited by the cleverness and
dexterity of the workman who produces them. Ac-
cording to the shape and size of the vessel, the
' thrower ' requires tne wheel and ihe mass of clay to
rotate with varying degrees of velocity, in which he
instructs his * wheel-turner.'

The general contour of the vessels, inside and out,
is given by the thumbs, fingers, and palms of the
hands. But as this could not insure accuracy suffi-
cient, the workman is provided with small pieces of
wood called • profiles,' or * ribs,' each of which is
shaped in accordance with cither the exterior or the
interior of some particular kind and form of vessel.
Holding one of these * ribs ' in his hand, and applying
it to the surface of the clay, the workman scrapes on
the superfluous portion at any protuberant or mis-
shapen part, and makes the whole circumference con-
form to the shape of the rib. The fragments thus re-
moved, technically called ' slurry,' he throws aside
among the unused clay. If a number of vessels arc
to be exactly the same size, the workman sometimes
fixes pegs in the stand on which the clay is placed,
which act as a guide to him in regulating tne diameter
to which the clay is to be expanded, and beyond which
it must not reach. When the vessel, by the aid of the
hands and the small working tools, is formed, it is cut
from the supporting piece of clay or from the board
by means of a piece of brass wire, much in the same
manner as barrelled butter is cut into slices, and the
newly-formed vessel is placed on a board or shelf
to dry.

In this manner vast varieties cf vessels arc formed,
comprising all those which present, both on the exte-
rior and the interior, an uniform circularity. And in-
deed not only are vessels thus formed, but masses of
clay are similarly brought into a cylindrical form, as a
nucleus from which ornamental articles may afterwards
be produced at the turning-lathe. Within the last few
years the use of porcelain has greatly extended, in re-
lation to articles both useful and ornamental. Candle-
sticks, taper-stands, fancy baskets, door-handles,
finger-plates, and a host of other articles, are now
made of this material ; and if the form is such as
can be given by the lathe, a mass of clay is first
worked by the hand into something like a cylindrical
shape, as a preparative for the operations of the turner.
The floor of the « throwing-room ' at the factory under
notice was filled with these cylindrical masses, tech-
nically called * solids/ some of which were to be turned
at the lathe into banister-rails for staircases, and others
into articles of various other kinds.

The operation of turning these articles is effected
very much in the same manner as the turning of wood.
The * solids ' are allowed to remain until, by the evapo-
ration of moisture from the damp clay, they have ac-
quired a degree of dryness which is known among the
workmen as the ' green state/ in which state the shaping
and smoothing of the surface arc better effected than
when the clay is either damper or drier. As a turner
in wood can produce an internal cylindrical cavity as
well as a circular exterior, so can the porcelain-turner ;
and it is in this way that candlesticks and similar ar-
ticles are brought to the required shape.

We have now, in supposition, made circular vessels,
and turned them to the required shape and smoothness.
But before we follow them through their subsequent

progress, it is desirable to witness the production of
those articles which neither the potter's wheel nor the
lathe will produce ; articles which exhibit in an es-
pecial degree the magnificence and delicacy of the
liner kinds of porcelain. This will take us to the
workshops of the 4 pressors,* the * mould-makers/ and
the 4 modellers ;' for the decorated articles are pro-
duced by pressing or by pouring clay into moulds,
which moulds must previously be made from models,
and whieli models must have been before formed by
hand. Hence the modeller is the all-important work-
man whom we must first visit.

In an upper room of the factory are the operations
of the man of taste, the * modeller,* conducted. Here,
whatever our Schools of Design, or education, or natu-
ral ability could afford, in the development of a know-
ledge in elegance of form, is important and valuable.
The modeller, from drawings made either by himself
or by others, has to build up in clay the exact repre-
sentative of the article to be formed in porcelain. From
the handle of a tea-cup up to the most elaborate com-
bination for a piece of drawing-room porcelain furni-
ture, the modeller haft to prepare an accurate original
in soft clay. Provided with a supply of clav, espe-
cially prepared for this kind of work, and wilfi a lew
simple tools, he elaborates the various parts of his
design, whether animals, fruit, flowers, foliage, archi-
tectural ornaments, arabesques, or any of the countless
varieties of decorative devices ; building up his model
piecemeal, and carving or cutting out the parts as he
proceeds. It has been aptly observed by Mr. Porter,
that " the taste of the modeller is put in requisi-
tion ; calling for the execution on his part of a high
degree of nkill and ingenuity in forming patterns,
and adapting to them appropriate ornaments. To be
a perfect modeller, in the higher branches of the
art, a man should have an acquaintance with the
best productions of the classic climes of Greece and
Rome ; he should be master of a competent knowledge
of the art of design ; his fancy glowing with originality,
tempered and guided by elegance and propriety of
feeling, and restrained by correctness of taste and
judgment. To a man thus gifted, the plastic and
well-tempered material wherewith he works offers
little of difficulty in the execution of his conceptions."

When we visited the studio of the modeller at these
works, he was engaged upon an elaborate model of a
kind of tripod or stand, comprising a vast number of
parts, all highly decorated. It is only in the costly
articles which require canting that the model is thus ela-
borate : when it can be produced by pressing, the pre-
paration of the model is generally more simple. The
difference between these two modes of manufacture is
this : — that, in pressing, the shallowness of the mould
is such that clay, in its usual plastic state, can be
pressed into all the minute devices of the mould ;
while, in casting, the mould is so deep and elaborate
that the clay has to be poured into it in the state of a
cream-like liquid. Plates, saucers, oval vessels, lids,
spouts, handles, and a large variety of articles which
are too irregular to be produced at the potters-wheel
and the latne, and yet not so complex as to require
casting, are produced by pressing. But both for press-
ing and for casting moulds must be made, and these
moulds are reversed copies of models produced by the
modeller ; so that this workman's services are required
for all.

Plaster of Paris, prepared in a particular way, is the
substance of which the moulds are made. The making
of the moulds is quite a distinct occupation from that
of modelling, and is carried on in a different part of
the factory. A casing of clay is first formed and se-
curely fixed round the model, leaving sufficient space
between it and the model for the substance of the

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mould. The plaster of Paris, being mixed with water
to a cream-like liquid, is then poured into the vacant
space. In a very short time, in virtue of the well-
known qualities of this substance, the plaster solidifies
into a compact mass, which is easily separable from the
model. Tne interior of this mould is then found to
give a perfect counter-representation of the exterior of
the model, in all its minuteness of detail. The model
is lastly dried, to prepare it for further use.

For pressing, the mould is sometimes made in two
parts, one half of the figure being on one side, and the
other half on the other ; the two being made to fit ac-
curately together. Clay is pressed into each half of
the mould, and cut off flush, so as to have no super-
fluity ; and the two halves of the mould being brought
closely together, each piece of clay receives its impress
from the half of the mould in which it lies, and the
two pieces are at the same time joined together : so
that one piece is produced, presenting a fac-simile of
both halves of the mould. This mode is adopted in
the preparation of a large diversity or variety of articles.
Another arrangement, for the production of plain
handles, spouts, &c., is to force clay through an orifice
in the bottom of a cylinder, the orifice having
that shape which is to be given to the clay. A
third arrangement, where one surface of a shallow ves-
sel, such as a saucer or a plate, requires to be moulded,
while the other can be formed without a mould, is to
lay a flat piece of clay on the mould, press it down
with a wet sponge, and give a proper form to the ex-
posed surface by a profile or gauge applied to the wet
clay while the latter is revolving. The annexed cut
represents a few ornamental articles which required to
be produced by pressure, and the moulds used in the
pressing.

[Moulds for Porcelain, and Casts.]

So varied and numerous are the articles now made
of porcelain, that it would be utterly impracticable to
classify them all in respect of the mode of manu-
facture ; but it will suffice to say that all are produced
by one or other of the modes above noticed, viz.,
throwing at the wheel, aided by profiles or gauges;
turning at the lathe ; pressing through an orifice in a
cylinder ; pressing one side on a mould, while the
other side is fashioned by a gauge ; pressing between
two moulds, or the two halves of a mould • and casting
while the clay is in a liquid form. In the last-men-
tioned mode of proceeding, the plaster of the mould
quickly absorbs water from the liquid clay which lies
m contact with its surface, and brings it to a solid
state; and a hardened shell having been thus pro-
duced, the subsequent arrangements arc such as to
make the cast either hollow or solid, according to its
form and dimensions.

Many a tea-drinker has probably marvelled how the
handle of a tea-cup is produced ; whether it is
fashioned by hand out of the same piece of clay which
forms the cup, or cast in a mould with it, or fixed on
separately. The preceding details will have prepared
us to understand the real state of the matter, — that
the cup, if not too elaborate in form, is * thrown ' at
the wheel ; that the handle is pressed in a mould,
and that the one is afterwards affixed to the other.
Handles, spouts, knobs, and small raised ornaments
are all attached to the vessels in a similar way, and
when the latter are in the ' g*een state,' between wet
and dry. The cement employed is simply a creamy
mixture of clay and water, technically termed ' slip,'
which is applied to the two surfaces to be joined to-
gether, and which enables them to adhere permanently.
The clay handle or spout is in such a soft state, that
considerable neatness and dexterity are requisite,
especially in curving the strip of pressed or moulded
clay which is to form the handle — a process repre-
sented in the annexed cut. The raised or relief orna-

[Fixing Handles.]

ments seen on articles of porcelain are made separately
in a mould, and cemented on the vessel by the aid Of
* slip/ except when the vessel is of such a kind as to
require to be cast or pressed, in which case the orna-
ments are generally made as part of the pattern itself
in the mould. Some of the workmen at the factory
were engaged in preparing elegant little taper-stands,
the construction of which illustrates conveniently the
combination of the different modes of manufacture:
for the lower saucer or dish had been pressed in a
mould ; the nozzle had been made into a * solid ' at the
wheel and then turned at the lathe ; the handle had
been formed in a double mould ; and lastly, all these
were joined together with * slip.'

Let us suppose, then, that we have traced all the
various kinds of porcelain articles to a finished state in
respect of their form and decorations ; the tea-pots
furnished with handles and spouts, the cups with

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[February, 1S43

handles, the jugs with lips, and the more highly de-
corated articles provided with all which the * thrower,'
the • turner/ the * prcsser,* and the ' caster ' can do
lor them. We shall next be prepared to follow them
through the subsequent processes which impart that
exquisite appearance so especially belonging to porce-
lain.

Adjacent to the buildings where the early stages of
the manufacture are carried on are four ' biscuit-
kilns/ in which the ware is exposed to an intense
heat. These kilns are probably about fourteen feet
high, and nearly as much in diameter. They are
heated by fires ranged round the circumference,
each kiln having eight fire-places. The whole in-
terior capacity is fitted for the reception of the articles
to be * fired/ or * baked.' Very great precautions are
necessary in this process ; for, if the smoke or flame
from the fire attacked thcporcelain, it would discolour
it at once, and spoil it. To prevent this mischance, all
the manufactured articles arc put into receptacles
called ' Beggars/ such as are here represented • these

[Putting manufactured articles into ' ScgRRrs.*]

are made principally of a kind of fire-clay capable of
resisting an intense heat; and so important are they,
that the acquisition of the sort of clay fitted for the
purpose has always been deemed a momentous point
on the part of the manufacturer. The seggars are of
various sizes, shapes, and depths, to suit the different
pieces they are to contain. According to the size and
shape of the articles, they are either enclosed one in
each seggar, or several in each ; but in the latter case
precautions arc taken that they should not adhere
together, nor touch each other at more than two or
three points : powdered flint is placed at the bottom of
the seggars, and pieces of hard fire-clay are so placed
within the seggar, that the articles may be supported
with as little contact as possible one with another.

The piling of the seggars in the 4 biscuit-kiln ' is a
singular arrangement. The whole interior is filled
with them. The top and bottom of each seggar (the

former open and the latter closed) being flat, they may
be piled one on another, so that eacli one forms a
cover for the one underneath. As the heat cannot be
perfectly equalized throughout the kiln, care is :akcn
that the larger articles shall be exposed to a higher
temperature than the smaller. Thus seggar is laid
upon seggar, and pile after pile built up within the kiln,
till the whole is filled. Every aperture is then care-
fully closed— of which the mam one is, of course, the
door through which the men enter the kiln— aud all
is ready for the fires to be lighted beneath. The
general appearance of the kiln while being filled is
here represented.

[Placing the 'Seggnrs' in ih« * Biscuit-kiln.']

We do not know whether it is a customary arrange-
ment in porcelain factories generally, or whether it
merely applies to the one which is the object of our
visit; but here the kiln-fires are lighted at a very
early hour on Friday morning, and the articles are
kept exposed to a fierce white heat throughout Friday
and Saturday, forty hours being about the length of
time during which they arc thus exposed. The precise
amount of * firing * necessary is a delicate point, to be
determined only by experience: it must be sufficient
to expel all the moisture, and to convert the clay into
a kind of semi-vitreous earth, but not beyond this
point.

The baked articles are allowed to cool gradually be-
fore being drawn from the kiln ; and when so drawn
they have acquired the state which is called ' biscuit/
Every article shrinks considerably while in the kiln,
and the weight is very materially lessened. The bis-
cuit-ware has a peculiarly delicate, soft, and white
appearance, presenting many points of striking differ-
ence compared with its unbaked slate. Every article,
as taken out of the seggar, is nicely cleaned, to remove
all symptoms of flint-dust, &c. ; and it is then ready
for the process of 'glazing/ by which the dead anil

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unpolished surface of the biscuit is converted into a
beautiful glassy surface.

One of the most important steps in the progress of
the porcelain manufacture has been the discovery of
substances fitted to impart this * glaze ' to porcelain.
Any of the substances which will make glass will af-
ford a glaze to pottery ; and these substances comprise
various alkalies, various oxides of metals, and flint in a
variety of forms : but what is the best combination to
form a glaze for the more delicate kinds of porcelain
is a question which has occupied much attention, not
only among manufacturers, but among chemists also.
In the commonest kinds of earthenware or pottery the
cheapest ingredients are those most resorted to ; but
in costly porcelain a totally different system is pur-
sued, tne excellence of the material being a much
more important matter than the smallnessof the price.
We believe that in this, as in the choice of clays for
making the porcelain, each large establishment has a
recipe of its own, derived from the experience of the
proprietors.

In one part of the factory is a room called the • dip-
ping-room/ adjacent to four • glaze-kilns.' In the dip-
ping-room are troughs or wooden vessels containing
the glaze, a whitish creamy liquid. The room is kept
at a moderate warmth, and is provided with conveni-
ences for placing the porcelain articles, both before
and after being dipped. The pieces of 'baked' or
• fired * porcelain being brought into this room, a work-
man takes them up one by one, holds them in such a
manner that there shall be the smallest amount of con-
tact between them and his fingers, and dips them into
the trough of glaze. By one of those manipulations
which are peculiar to most occupations, he turns the
vessel about, on removing it from the glaze, in such a
manner that, while every part shall be coated, none
shall have any superabundance but what may easily be
drained off. The vessels arc put down out of his hand,
one by one, on a board, which is thence carried to the
'glaze-kiln placing-room.' In this latter room they
are piled up in seggars, nearly in the same way as be-
fore, but with certain modifications to suit the pecu-
liarity of the circumstances.

The glaze-kilns, like the biscuit-kilns, are each
heated by eight fires, and are each filled up with piles of
seggars; but in the glaze-kilns the slight opening be-
tween the several seggars of each pile is stopped with
clay, to prevent more effectually the entrance of smoke
and flame into the seggar. The heat for vitrifying the
glaze is much less intense than for biscuit-firing, and
is continued for a much smaller number of hours. The
operation consists in driving off the watery parts of the
glaze, and melting the vitreous part, which, in a vitre-
ous state, combines firmly with the biscuit. Where
we find, in the cheaper articles of manufacture, the
glaze to become discoloured, or the ware discoloured
under the glaze, or the glaze intersected by myriads of
minute cracks, this always indicates either that a bad
choice of ingredients was made, or that the manage-
ment of the glaze-kiln was injudicious ; and this is
one of the many points in which first-rate porcelain
shows its excellence.

We have now brought the porcelain to what might
be deemed a finished state, so tar as regards the actual
service demanded from it : but it is very rarely that
such porcelain as we are now considering leaves the
hands of the manufacturer in this state ; it is nearly
always decorated either with painting or gilding, or
both, before it passes into the hands of the customer.
Wc follow it therefore to one of the largest and most
interesting rooms in the factory, known as the • paint-
ing-room.' This is a long room, provided on both
sides with rows of windows, through which an ample
tup ply of light is obtained. Close to the windows are

a range of tables, at which the painters are seated,
each one with his side to the light. At the time of
our visit a large number of persons were thus engaged,
each one holding in his left hand some article or other
of porcelain which he was painting with his right.
The odour indicated that various mineral colours,
mixed up with oil and turpentine, formed the material
of the paint. Each man had a pallet of colour before
him, which he laid on the porcelain with a camel-hair
pencil, much in the same manner as a miniature-
painter would do.

In China this branch of manufacture is so sub-
divided, that one man paints blue, another red, another
yellow, &c, so that each article goes through a great
number of hands during the process of painting. But
in England the subdivision is more rational. One
man takes flowers, another foliage, a third animals, a
fourth landscape, a fifth figures, a sixth heraldic bear-
ings, and so forth; confining themselves mainly to
that which their taste and studies have enabled them
to effect artistically. Consequently, in walking from
one part of the painting-room to another, we witnessed
in succession the labours of all these classes of artists.
Each painter holds the piece of porcelain against a
projecting part of his table, so as to retain it firmly ;
or else, if a circular ornament is to go round it, lie
rests it on a support which may enable it to rotate
with facility. The colours employed in this process
are chiefly oxides of various metals, worked up to a
liquid state with spirits of tar and of turpentine, and
amber oil. Those ornaments which are subsequently
to present the brilliant golden appearance so familiar
to us on the better kinds of porcelain, are effected by a
preparation of refined gold mixed up With some of
the liquids just mentioned into a dark brown colour,
which nas no semblance to a golden hue until after it
has been burned in a kiln.

Some of the articles of porcelain have a white or
unpainted ground, decorated with coloured ornaments ;
while others are painted over the whole surface with a
ground colour, the laying on of which is the work of a
particular set of painters, who show great art in the
uniform tinting produced. For instance, we saw some
of the painters engaged on a costly service of porcelain
for the distinguished Hindoo who has recently visited
England — Dwarkanauth Tagore, in which the ground
was a delicate tint of green, produced by a different
manipulation from that which imparts the decorative
devices. In some parts of the room there were herald-
painters engaged on articles of porcelain for the mess-
rooms of some of our regiments and for noble families,
the arms of the regiment or of the family being

{minted in more or less detail on each piece of porce-
ain. Not only are vessels for table-service thus
painted, but the side slabs for fire-places and a large
variety of decorative furniture are now made in
porcelain, and then subjected to the taste and skill of
the painter. This is one of the branches of the porce-
lain manufacture in which the English have made
very rapid progress within the last few years.

Conveniently placed with respect to the painting-
room are the • enamel-kilns,' in which the painted
articles are exposed to a heat sufficient to make the
colours adhere to the porcelain. These kilns are a
kind of arched oven, having a door at one end, and
gratings within on which the articles are placed. The
most scrupulous care and delicacy are displayed in
managing these kilns, as to the temperature and length
of exposure. Sometimes the painter requires to par-
tially heat the porcelain two or three times during the
process of painting, to ascertain the effect of his
colours, and to combine them well with the porcelain.
Indeed the care required in this process is very little
less than in the exquisite one of enamel-painting.

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[February, 1843

We next follow the costly results of all the preceding
labours to the • burnishing-room,' a large apartment
occupied by women and girls employed in burnish-
ing those parts which have been gilt in the paint-
ing-room. The burnishers are formed of blood-stone
and agate, brought to a very smooth surface, and va-
riously shaped to adapt them to the curvatures of the
porcelain. Each workwoman is seated at a bench
with her face towards a window, holding the porcelain
in the left hand, and the burnisher in ner right, with
which she rubs the gilded parts until they are brought
to a brilliant gloss. The warehouses of the firm — of
which there is one in the High Street of Worcester,
and two in London, in Coventry Street and in Bond
Street — illustrate in a striking degree the progress
made by our manufacturers in the production of those
luxurious articles for which Sevres and Dresden ob-
tained, in past times, such celebrity

TESSELLATED TILE MANUFACTURE.

We must in closing say a few words respecting a
branch of manufacture which promises to be much
extended in England, viz. tessellated tiles for pave-
ments, &c. Whoever has seen the Temple Church
since it has been renovated, will have noticed the
beautiful pavement which it displays, formed of a
vast number of rectangular tiles about six inches
square, glazed on the upper surface. The establish-
ment to which this * visit* relates is one of those where-
in tiles of this kind, a specimen or two of which are
here depicted, are made.

[TeueUated Tiles.]

The tessellated tiles are formed of two differently
coloured clays, one imbedded in the other, and dis-
posed so as to form an ornamental device. The tile is
first made in clay of one colour, with a depression
afterwards to be filled with clay of the other colour,
and this depression is formed by the aid of a mould.
In the first place, the modeller models in stiff clay an
exact representative of one of the tiles, about an inch
thick, cutting out to the depth of about a quarter of an
inch the depression which constitutes the device.
When this is properly dried, a mould is made from it
in plaster of Paris, and from this mould all the tiles

are produced one by one. The ground-colour of the
tile is frequently a brownish clay, with a yellow de-
vice; but this may be varied at pleasure. Let the
colour be what it may, however, the first clay is mixed
up very thick, and pressed into the mould by the aid

of the press seen in the next cut. On leaving the
press it presents the form of a damp, heavy, um-
coloured square tile of clay, with an ornamental de-
vice formed by a depression below the common level
of the surface.

[Making the Tile*.]

The second-coloured clay, so far from being made
stiff like the first, has a consistence somewhat resem-
bling that of honey; and herein lies one of the niceties
of manufacture, for it is necessary to choose clays
which will contract equally in baking, although of dif-
ferent consistence when used. The tile being laid on
a bench, the workman plasters the honey-like clay on
it, until he has completely filled the depressed device,
using a kind of knife or trowel in this process. The
tile, in this state, is then allowed to dry very gradually
for the long period of eight weeks, to accommodate
the shrinking of the clays to their peculiar natures.
After this, each tile is si raped on the surface with an
edge-tool, till the superfluous portion of the second
clay is removed, and the two clays become properly
visible, one forming the ground and the other the de-
vice. In this state the tiles are put into a 4 biscuit-
kiln/ where they are baked in a manner nearly re
sembling the baking of porcelain, but with especial
reference, as to time and temperature, to the quality
of the clays. From the biscuit-kiln they are trans-
ferred to tne ' dipping-room,' where they are coated on
the upper surface with liquid glaze by means of a
brush. Lastly, an exposure to the heat of the * glaze-
kiln' for a period of twenty-four or thirty hours causes
the glaze to combine with the clay, and the tiles are
then finished.

The substance of which these tiles are made cannot
be called porcelain, but the care required in their
manufacture is such as to remove them from the rank
of common pottery, and to form a sufficient reason for
their being made at the very interesting establishment
here described, and of which we now take our leave.

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~ t^ t**- ^ T ^ >

[Port of Shang-hae.]

SHANG-HAE.

Shang-hae, in the province of Kiang-su (which, with
Anhoi, or Ngan-hoei, form what was, and still is often
considered as the one province of Kiang-nan), is the
most northerly of the five ports of China opened by
the late treaty to British commerce. It is situated in
about 31° N. lat. and 121° E. long.*, and is built on the
left bank of the river Woo-sung, which is properly
only the channel by which the waters of the Lake
Tahoo or Tai (the Great Lake) are discharged into the
sea. Though the course of the river probably does
not exceed fifty miles, it brings down a great volume
of water, and is very deep. Opposite the town of
Shang-hae, which is sixteen miles from its mouth, the
depth in the middle of the stream varies from six to
eight fathoms, so that the largest vessels can come up
to the harbour, and unload alongside of the com-
modious wharfs * and large warehouses which occupy
the banks of the river. At this place the river is
nearly half a mile wide.

The town is very large. The streets are narrow, and
many of them are paved with small tiles, similar to
Dutch clinkers, which make a more agreeable footing
than the slippery granite with which other towns in
China are paved. The shops in the city are generally
small, but wares of all descriptions are exhibited for
sale ; many of them contain European goods, especially
woollens. Du Halde, in his ' Description of China/
says, that in this town and its neighbourhood 200,000
weavers are occupied in making plain cottons and
muslins; and Lindsay adds, that the nankeen cloth
from Shang-hae is said to be the best in the empire.
Sir Hugh Gough, in his despatches after the capture
of the town, says, •• as a commercial city nothing can
exceed it;" adding that ships of large burthen can
ascend the river for several miles above the town : but

No. 701.

though he says it appears a rich city, with " good walls
in perfect repair," he states the population to be only
from sixty to seventy thousand, the circumference of
the walls being about three miles and a half. One of
the officers of the expedition, in a recently published
work*, " here observed some pretty public tea-gardens,
with grottoes and labyrinths, constructed of real and
artificial rocks piled curiously one above the other."

Previous to the late expedition little was known of a
place which appears to be the principal emporium of
Eastern Asia, and whose commerce is as active as that
of any other place on the globe, not even London ex-
cepted. It is certainly a very remarkable circum-
stance that such a commercial town had only once
been visited by a European vessel, and that not before
1832, when the Amherst, under the command of Capt.
Lindsay, entered the Woo-sung river. Capt. Lindsay
states — " On our arrival at Woo-sung (a small town
only a mile above the mouth of the river of that name),
I was so struck with the vast quantity of junks enter-
ing the river, that I caused tnem to be counted for
several successive days. The result was, that in seven
days upwards of four hundred junks, varying in size
from one hundred to four hundred tons, passed Woo-
sung, and proceeded to Shang-hae. During the first
part of our stay most of these vessels were the north-
country junks with four masts, from Teen-tsin (Thian-
tsin on the Peiho) and various parts of Manchow Tar-
tary, flour and peas from which place formed a groat por-
tion of their cargo. But during the latter part of our
stay, the Fokien (Fukain) junks began to pour in to the
number of thirty or forty per day. Many of these were
from Formosa, Canton, the Eastern Archipelago,
Cochin-China, and Siam." Now if we suppose that
the commerce of Shang-hae is as active the whole year
round as Capt. Lindsay found it to be in the month of
* Lieut. Murray, * Doings in China.'

XII.— M

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[March 4,

July, we come to the conclusion that this port is annu-
ally visited by shipping to the amount of five million
tons. In 1838 the shipping that entered the port of
London did not quite amount to four million tons:
namely, 1,061,923 tons employed in the foreign trade,
and 2,908,176 tons in the coasting-trade. But as
Capt. Lindsay observes that the winters in these
parts are rather severe, and that the snow some-
times lies several feet deep for more than a month,
we may suppose that the navigation of the Woo-
sung is annually interrupted for four or six weeks,
and thus the commerce of Shang-hae would be
reduced nearly to a level with that of London. But
though the commerce of Shang-hae is perhaps more
active than that of the British metropolis, its sphere is
much more limited, as the most remote countries with
which it is connected towards the south are Siam and
the Sooloo Archipelago, towards the east Japan, and
towards the north the province of Leaotong and Mand-
shooria, whilst London receives merchandize from ail
the world.

It certainly excites some surprise to find that so
active a commerce is carried on in a place which has
hardly any commercial relation with foreign countries.
But our surprise will cease if we consider that there
is no other harbour on the Chinese coast between 30°
and 37° N. lat., or between the bay of Ningpo on the
south, and the peninsula of Shantung on the north.
On this tract of coast the two largest rivers of China,
the Yellow River and the Yang-tse-kiang, enter the
sea, and they bring great quantities of earthy matter,
which they deposit along the coast, and thus render the
whole tract inaccessible to boats beyond the size of a
fishing-barge. The Yang-tse-kiang discharges itself in-
to the Yellow Sea by a broad estuary, in the centre of
which is the island of Tsong-ming ; the Woo-sung falls
into the Yang-tse-kiang near its embouchure, on its south-
ern side, and being the first river which is deep enough
for the purposes of navigation, the whole maritime com-
merce of this tract is concentrated at Shang-hae. The
country which lic3 at the back of the coast is the most
populous part of China, and contains many very large
towns, among which those of Soo-choo-foo and Hang-
choo-foo probably contain a million of inhabitants
each, and there are others which may vary between
one hundred thousand and five hundred thousand,
among which is the ancient capital of China, Nankin,
to all of which they have ready access by the Yang-
tse-kiang, which the tide ascends for more than # two
hundred miles, and the Great Canal.

Nankin is the capital of the province, seated on the
south bank of the river, near 32° N. lat. and 117° E.
long., and about one hundred and twenty miles from
its mouth. This town was the capital of the em-
pire to the end of the thirteenth century, and at
that time the largest town on the globe. To give an
idea of its then extent, the Chinese historical records
say, that if two horsemen were to go out in the morn-
ing at the same gate, and were to gallop round by
opposite ways, they would not meet before night. This
is certainly an exaggeration. The Jesuits, when sur-
veying the town for the purpose of making a plan of
it, found that the circuit of the exterior walls was
thirty-seven lies, or nearly twenty miles. This agrees
pretty well with the description given by Ellis, who
estimates the distance between the gate near the river
and the Porcelain Tower at about six miles, and says
that an area of not less than thirty miles was diver-
sified with groves, houses, cultivation, and hills, and
enclosed within the exterior wall, which forms an
irregular polygon; and is confirmed by Sir Hugh
Gough in his despatches, who says, " It would not be
easy to give a clear description of this vast city, or
rather of the vast space encompassed within its walls.

I shall therefore only observe that the northern angle
reaches to within about seven hundred paces of the
river, and that the western face runs for some miles
along the base of wooded heights rising immediately
behind it, and is then continued for a great distance
upon low ground, having before it a deep canal, which
also extends along its southern face, serving as a wet
ditch to both. There is a very large suburb on the
low ground, in front of the west and south faces, and
at the south-east angle is the Tartar city, which is a
separate fortress, divided from the Chinese town by
high walls. The eastern face extends in an irregular
line for many miles, running towards the south over a
spur of Chung-san, a precipitous mountain overlook-
ing the whole country, the base of which commands
the rampart. In this face are three gates; the most
northerly (the Teshing) is approachable by a paved
road, running between wooded hills to within five
hundred paces of the walls, whence it is carried along
a cultivated flat ; the next (the Taiping) is within a
few hundred yards of the base of Chung-san ; and
that to the south (the Chanyang) enters the Tartar
city. There is a long line of unbroken wall between
the Teshing gate and the river, hardly approachable
from swamps and low paddy (rice) land, and the space
between the Teshing and Taiping gates is occupied by
rather an extensive lake/' Sir Hugh states the extent
of the walls at about twenty miles in circumference,
and their height as varving from about seventy to
twenty-eight feet. Mr. bavis, who passed through
Nankin in 1816, in Lord Amherst's embassage, says,
in his sketches of China, the larger portion of the area
is now a mere waste, or laid out in gardens of vege-
tables with clumps of trees ; and he was struck with
their strong resemblance to modern Rome, '• in as far as
they consist of hills, remains of paved roads, and scat-
tered cultivation; but the gigantic masses of ruins
which distinguish modern Rome are wanting in Nan-
kin." It is still, however, as large as most other pro-
vincial towns, the population being still estimated at
three hundred thousand, and it is the residence of the
first viceroy of the empire, the governor of the two
Kiang provinces. " It is celebrated," says Mr. Davis,
" as a seat of Chinese learning, and sends more mem-
bers to the imperial college of Pekin than any other
city. The books, the paper, and the printing of Nankin
are celebrated through the country as being unri-
valled."

The present town consists of four principal streets,
running parallel to one another, and intersected at
right angles by smaller ones. Through one of the
larger streets a narrow channel flows, which is crossed
at intervals by bridges of a single arch. The streets
are not spacious, but have the appearance of unusual
cleanliness. The part within the walls which is now-
only occupied by gardens and bamboo-groves is still
crossed by paved roads, a fact which tends to con-
firm the statement that the whole area was once built
upon.

None of the buildings of Nankin arc distinguished
by their architecture, except some of the gates, and
the famous Porcelain Tower, which is attached to one
of the pagodas or temples. This building is octagonal,
and of a considerable height in proportion to its base,
the height being more than two hundred feet, while
each side of the base measures only forty feet. It con-
sists of nine stories, all of equal height, except the
ground-floor, which is somewhat higher than the rest.
Each story consists of one saloon, with painted ceil-
ings ; inside, along the walls, statues are placed.
Nearly the wjiole of the interior is gilded. Mr. Davis,
however, says, " It is porcelain in nothing but the tiles
with which it is faced." At the termination of every
story, a roof built in the Chinese fashion projects some

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feet ou the outside, and under it is a passage round the
tower. At the projecting corners of these roofs small
bells are fastened, which sound with the slightest
breeze. On the summit of the tower is an ornament
in the form of the cone of a fir-tree : it is said to be of
gold, but probably is only gilt : it rests immediately
upon a pinnacle, with several rings round it. This
tower is said to have been nineteen years in building,
and to have cost four hundred thousaud taels.

According to the Chinese census, the country be-
tween 30° and 35° N. lat., extending from the sea
about two hundred miles inland, and comprehending
the ancient province of Kiang-nan, on a surface not ex-
ceeding seventy thousand square miles has a population
of more than forty millions, or about six hundred inha-
bitants to each square mile. Such a population cannot
subsist on the produce of the soil, even in the high
state of agriculture by which this region is distin-
guished above all other parts of China. A consider-
able supply of provisions must be required every year.
Such an inference must also be drawn from what is
stated by Captain Lindsay, namely, that the northern
country vessels bring chiefly corn and peas; and
though he does not mention the cargoes of the Fo-
kien vessels, which come from the Eastern Archi-
pelago, Cochin-China, and Siam, it is a known fact
that the principal article of export from these coun-
tries to China is rice. The immense quantity of grain
which is carried into the port of Shang-hae is probably
not consumed in that town and the neighbourhood ;
but a part of it reaches the centre and even the western
districts of China Proper, by being conveyed on the
numerous canals which are connected with the Impe-
rial canal, or Yoon-ho, and the two great rivers above
mentioned. The exports probably consist of manufac-
tured goods, and the inhabitants pay for the food which
they obtain from other countries by supplying their
inhabitants with cotton, silk, and linen fabrics. The
importance of the port of Shang-hae to British com-
merce can hardly be overrated as giving access to the
northern provinces of China, whose wants are of a
kind which that commerce is peculiarly able to supply,
and a great part of which has been hitherto obtained
through Russia, at, of course, most exorbitant prices,
consequent on a land-carriage of two or three thousand
miles. Mr. Charles Grant, in his examination in 1821
before the Committee of the House of Lords on the
East India and China Trade, stated that the sale of
European goods by the Russians at the great fair of
Kiachta (which only lasts about two months), consist-
ing chiefly of woollens, Manchester cottons, and vel-
veteens, amounted to about a million sterling yearly ;
and added, that at Kiachta English velveteens were
sold at as high a price as the best velvets at Canton.
He also stated that " the inhabitants of the northern
provinces of China, Pe-chce-lee, Shantung, &c, might
receive the same description of articles, even through
Canton and the great canal, cheaper than through
Russia, were the transit encouraged by the Chinese;
And there can be no doubt, were British vessels per-
mitted to import into any of the ports of the Yellow
Sea, that all sorts of goods might be delivered as cheap
as at Canton ;" but he concluded, from the jealous
policy of the Chinese, that this permission would never
be obtained. It has now, however, been effected ; and
if the Chinese have acceptable articles to give us in
exchange, of which there may be some doubt, a large,
new, and equally beneficial commerce to each nation
may be looted forward to as the result, and by far the
best result, of our military exertions.

DUDLEY— ITS CASTLE, LIME-CAVERNS,
AND 'NAILERS/

The town of Dudley, as we had occasion to notice in a
recent description of the appearance of South Stafford-
shire at night, is situated in the heart of the midland
coal-field of England, and therefore shares with the
surrounding district the singular features which they
present. But there is in addition, with respect to
Dudley, such a strange mixture of the ancient with the
modern — the feudal with the manufacturing — the soli-
tary and romantic with the busy and bustling — as can
not fail to attract the notice of those who visit the spot
for the first time.

Dudley Castle, which, like many of our ancient cas-
tles, became the parent of an adjacent town, is situated
on a somewhat lotty limestone hill, far above the general
level of the town. This limestone seems to jut through
the strata of coal and iron-stone, as if it had been urged
upwards by some internal convulsion ; and hence the
hill itself yields neither of those two much sought-for
minerals, the lime being the substance for which, com-
mercially speaking, the hill is alone valuable. Whe-
ther the barons who built this castle were aware of the
mineral riches by which they were surrounded cannot
now be known ; most probably they were not. But
whether they were or not, the position of the castle, or
skeleton of the castle, appears at the present clay
strangely unsuited to the ideas which we are accus-
tomed to attach to a feudal residence. Smoking fur-
naces — a thick and clouded atmosphere — canals bear-
ing barges filled with iron and coal — and working
people with begrimed clothes and faces — these arc the
objects with which the castle is surrounded.

Let us suppose ourselves in the busy town of Dudley,
and visit the castle from thence. While in the town,
especially on a market-day, we witness all those active
and busy scenes which are incident to the wants of a
trading population ; visitors from all the surrounding
districts, some to buy and others to sell, crowd the
streets ; the shopkeepers make the best display which
their stock of goods will permit ; and all those features
are exhibited which belong to a town enlivened by
commercial activity. But when we arrive at the end
of Castle-street, and apply for admission to the Castle
ruins, here is a change ! We leave a noisy world for a
silent one— a scene marked with the features of the
present day for one which tells of ages long since
passed away. There is a gate, under the charge of a
person employed by the present owner of the castle,
through which admission (which is liberally granted to
all) is gained to the grounds surrounding the castle ;
and when this gate is once passed, a visitor can
scarcely avoid throwing off all thoughts of street bustle,
and thinking what kind of men they were who built
castles in past times. Before us we see a winding,
ascending path, half stairs, half incline, on ascending
which we gain a hill surmounted by all that now re-
mains of Dudley Castle. The ancient outer gate, or
warder's tower, still presents vestiges to show what
it once was ; and, having passed this, we have the re-
mains of the keep, or donjon, in front. This was once
apparently a small quadrangle, having four towers at
the corners, connected by curtain walls. There now
only remain two of these towers, and the one curtain
wall connecting them, all else being now levelled
nearly to the ground.

Within these two towers there are winding stair-
cases, extending probably to the summit; but as they
are in rather a shattered state, the ascent is prudently
prevented above a certain height by doors thrown
across the staircases. On ascending to the height of a
few yards, and looking through the loopholes, we have
unmistakeable evidence of the nature of the surround-

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ing district Flickering fires checquer the scene on
every side. Whether we look northward towards Tip-
ton, or north-east towards Wednesbury, or north-west
in the direction of Sedgley, or eastward to Oldbury,
or southward to Stourbridge, — the eye is pretty sure to
glaucK upon iron-furnaces, pit-mouth hills, or coke-
hills, sending up their flaming contributions to the al-
ready dense atmosphere of the district. Close beneath
us \*e see Dudley, its streets, churches, and factories,
forming a compact assemblage. In the midst of such
a scene we look round at the ruins at hand, and read
the tale which they tell of baronial greatness : how the
foundation of the castle was laid by Dodo or Dudo, a
Saxon lord, about the year 700 ; how the Conqueror
removed the Saxon possessor, Earl Edwin, to make
room for one of his followers, William Fitzausculph ;
how, during the reigns of the Henrys and the Ed-
wards, it passed into the hands of various branches of
Fitzausculph's family ; how it came into the possession
of the Dudley family in the time of Edward III. ; how
its possessors brougnt themselves into trouble during
the reigns of the Tudors ; and how the castle was be-
sieged during the Commonwealth — have been fully
detailed by the local historians. Suffice it here to say
that the castle was almost ruined and dismantled by
the Parliamentary army; rebuilt, more in the style
of a mansion than a castle, soon afterwards ; again
nearly destroyed by fire about ninety years ago ; left
as an utterly neglected ruin till the beginning of the
present century ; and then improved in its approaches
and exterior arrangements by its possessor, Lord Dud-
ley and Ward, so far as to make a visit to the rains a
practicable and pleasant ramble.

Besides the remains of the Keep, there are fragments
of walls, doorways, windows, &c., partly surrounding
a green, which was once the great court-yard or quad-
rangle of the castle ; but not a roof' remains to convey
an idea of the apartments of the castle. The ruins,
taken as a whole, are much less picturesque, and much
less connected with interesting historical events, than
ihose of Kenilworth ; but they are perhaps worthy of
more notice from tourists than they seem to have re-
ceived. The surrounding district is certainly almost
enough to deter a lover of the picturesque ; and this
circumstance may have lessened the number of those
who would otherwise have become acquainted with
Dudley Castle.

On proceeding beyond the limits of the castle ruins,
in a direction opposite to the town of Dudley, we get
into the grounds belonging to the castle. These are
singularly w ild and secluded. There is a deep ravine,
which, if found in Switzerland or Italy, would probably
have furnished a subject for a host of pencils ; but be-
inp found among the coal and iron districts of Stafford-
shire, no artist thinks of looking for it. At a first
glance it is not easy to determine whether the ravine
or dell is natural or the result of excavation ; for it is
bounded and shut in partly by rocks, and partly by
verdant sides, and varied by clumps of trees. It has,
however, been stated that this hollow is the result of
lime-quarriesy the excavation having been made so long
a period back as to have suffered the denuded rocks to
assume a vegetable clothing. Whether this be so or
not, there are at the present day lime-quarries being
worked at a lower level in the castle hill, in such a
manner as to present caverns almost rivalling those of
Derbyshire in singularity of appearance. These ca-
verns, occasioned by the underworking of the beds of
limestone, display pendant roofs, and massy columns
left for their support. In groping along these caverns,
the visitor often finds himself in pitchy darkness ; and
a rolling stone will frequently convey to him the inti-
mation that water is flowing at a considerable depth
beneath him. This water illustrates one of the many

remarkable features of the district. The castle-hill is
perforated by two or three canals, wnich proceed in
profound darkness through channels or tunnels cut in
the limestone rock. This is exhibited to the eye at one
spot in the castle grounds, where we see a rocky sort
of glen enclosing a basin, the sides of which are diver-
sified with rugged projections, and enriched with fo-
liage. In the rough sides of this basin are seen three
openings, being tunnels belonging to three different
canals which meet in this open glen. All the three
are excavated in the limestone, and were constructed
as a means of conveying to Birmingham and other
parts the lime dug from the castle-hill. In no part of
the vicinity do nature and art appear to be more oddly
mingled than here.

In various parts of the vicinity lime working and
burning are still carried on to a large extent. An
elevated* hill called the "Wren's Nest,'* not far distant
from the castle, contains extensive lime-quarries. The
lime is found in two beds, each about ten yards in
thickness, separated by a space of forty yards filled
with lime of .an inferior quality, mixed with sand and
clay. The caverns (as the excavations resulting from
the labours of the quarriers are called) in the Wren's
Nest Hill are highly remarkable, from the manner in
which the retaining props and pillars are made to con-
form to the dip of the strata, and from the length and
depth to which the excavations have extended.

When we leave the ravine and grounds behind the
castle, we may return to the entrance by one of three
paths, winding in different directions, all of which are
Jcept in order at the expense of the proprietor of the
ruins. On emerging from the gate we again find our-
selves in the streets of Dudley, and surrounded by the
busy operations of which it is the theatre. The shop-
keepers supply the usual wares required by an active
population ; but it is not till we get outside the town,
and in the villages between it and Birmingham, Wal-
sall, Stourbridge, &c., that we meet with many indica-
tions of that remarkable feature which is connected
with the nail-manufacture.

Cut- nails are made principally by machinery;
wrought-nails by hand ; and these latter are not made
in large buildings, or factories, so much as in the hum-
ble cottages of the workmen. In passing along any of
the high-roads in this neighbourhood, we may fre-
quently see women trudging along, carrying on their
heads bundles of nail-rods which they have purchased
at some of the numerous iron-works, and are taking
to their own homes, there to fabricate them into nails.
Each rod is about six feet in length, and has a width
and thickness proportionate to the size of the nail
which is to be made. The rods are prepared by draw-
ing red-hot iron bars successively through a series of
holes in a steel-plate ; the holes employed being
smaller and smaller until the desired dimensions are
produced. The rods, as thus produced, are much
longer than six feet ; but they are reduced to that
length in order to facilitate the formation of them into
convenient bundles ; and it is with such bundles that
we frequently see the labouring women of the district
laden. A walk along the same roads will afford us
indications of one among the causes of the location of
the nail-manufacture, and many similar manufactures,
in this quarter ; we mean, the abundant supply of coal.
Carts are traversing the country in every direction,
drawn by one horse each, and filled with Staffordshire
coal, generally in pieces of such size as would win for
it the approving term of "nubbly coal" in London ;
purchaseable, too, at a price considerably less than one-
naif of that paid in the metropolis.

If we follow one of these • nailers' to her home, we
shall probably find it a low, dismal-looking, comfort-
less brick house, exhibiting cracks and fissures which

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would alarm most persons. The nature of the district
affects the buildings, as well as the people and the at-
mosphere. The whole ground beneatn is so com-
pletely honeycombed by the operations of the miners,
that it care be not taken to cease working within a few
feet of the surface, the latter often sinks, and injures
whatever structures may be erected on it. This does
not imply that the ground actually breaks in and leaves
an open fissure or chasm, but that a subsidence takes
place sufficient to shake all above. Some of the poorer
nouses about Oldbury have chains wound about them,
to keep them up.

The nailers nave small forges within their houses,
at which they work in companies, women as well as
men. Mutton's description of the female nailers has
been often quoted, for the oddness of the scene itself,
and the quaint language in which he records it. While
speaking of Birmingham, he says : — " The art of nail-
making is one of the most ancient among us; we
safely charge its antiquity with four figures. We can-
not consider it a trade in so much as of Birmingham ;
for we have but few nail-makers left in the town ; our
nailers are chiefly masters, and rather opulent. The
manufacturers are so scattered around the country,
that we cannot travel far, in any direction, out of the
sound of the nail-hammer. But Birmingham, like a

powerful magnet, draws the produce of the anvil to
herself." Then comes his aescription of the nail
smithy : — " When I first approached here from Wal
sail, in 1741, I was surprised at the number of black-
smiths' shops upon the road ; and could not conceive
how a country, though populous, could support so
many people of the same occupation. In some of these
shops I observed one or more females, stripped of their
upper garment, and not overcharged with their lower,
wielding the hammer with all the grace of the sex.
The beauties of their face were rather eclipsed by the
smut of the anvil ; or, in poetical phrase, the tincture
of the forge had taken possession of those lips which
might have been taken oy the kiss. Struck with the
novelty, I inquired, 4 Whether the ladies in this coun-
try shod horses?' but was answered, with a smile,
• They are nailers.* "

There the nailers are still located, much as they
were when Hutton first saw them a hundred years ago.
They still use the forge to heat the iron-rod, the anvil
on which, and the hammer by which, to fashion the
nail, and still make the nails one by one ; and, without
using Hutton's " poetical phrase," we may still con-
sider the occupation to be somewhat of the dirtiest.
It constitutes one of the remarkable features in the
district of which Dudley may be deemed the centre.

[tort Krie, ou Lake Erie, in 1 77 O.J

THE NIAGARA DISTRICT, WESTERN
CANADA.— No. III.

The Niagara district, being already settled, does not
offer any inducement to the usual description of emi-
grants, who proceed to Canada for the purpose of
purchasing land, and by their industry bringing the
wild forest into a state of cultivation ; but persons with
capital may do well to settle in this part of the pro-
vince. They can purchase farms already cleared, and
the vicinity of good markets at once compensates them
for the higher price which they must pay. To those
who are incapable of ' roughing ' it in • the bush,' such
a plan is undoubtedly the best. Both in the British
provinces and in the United States there are a class

of men who employ themselves in clearing land, and
after bringing it into a rude state of cultivation, they
sell their ' clearings,' and these useful pioneers are
again off into the woods. This is a very beneficial dis-
tribution of labour, and renders the task of the more
refined emigrant comparatively light. The infinite
diversity of taste and habit amongst our countrymen
who choose to reside on the continent of Europe, in
many cases to retrench their expenditure, renders it
probable that some of them would effect their purpose
more readily by a residence of a few years in tne Nia-
gara district, if unhappily it were not the dissipation
of the European capitals which constituted the charm
of the old continent ; but still, as we have already
remarked, a different taste might lead others to prefer

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the shores of Lake Erie. The heauties of Nature,
and the grand and novel features which she here pre-
sents, would surely to a rightly constituted mind be
more attractive than the lounging habits of a second-
rate town in France. There is no lack of field-sports
and of other amusements which agreeably diversify
the life of a man who is not pursuing some settled
plan of existence, but merely resting lor a time for
some specified object. In summer the tour of the
lakes might be made, the adjacent parts of the States
visited, and the cities of Montreal, Quebec, Albany,
Boston, and New York arc each within two or three
days' journey. In a short time new and more correct
views would be obtained of a state of things differing
greatly in many points from that which the emigrant
had quitted. It is said that those who have once
resided in new settlements where the forms of society
are comparatively free and unconstrained, seldom
relish, on their return to an old community, the hollow
formalities by which they are circumscribed, and look
back with regret to their former freedom, so that a
temporary sojourn might, in the case we have sup-
posed, become a permanent settlement.

Eastern and Western Canada, under a united consti-
tutional government, such as they have now obtained,
and aided by the stream of emigration from the mother-
country, which is pouring in at the rate of above thirty
thousand persons yearly, is likely to increase rapidly
in population. In the speech with which the late
Lord Sydenham opened the first session of the United
Legislature of Canada he pointed out the importance
of measures for developing the resources of the country
by extensive public works, observing that ** the rapid
settlement of the country, — the value of every man's
property within it, — the advancement of his future for-
tunes, are deeply affected by this question." The
objects which he pointed out as promising commen-
surate returns for a great outlay, were the improve-
ment of the navigation from the shores of Lake Erie
and Lake Huron to the ocean, and the establishment
of new internal communications in the inland districts.
The Wclland canal already places in the hands of the
merchants of Kingston and Montreal the command
over the produce of the western parts of the United
States and the most fertile grain districts in Western
Canada, which can reach the Atlantic for exportation
to Europe, the West Indies, &c. in a considerably
shorter time than if the products of the above districts
were conveyed to New York by the Erie canal. An
improvement of this nature benefits the most remote
settler in the backwoods, increases the value of his
labour, and brings around him, much sooner than
would otherwise be the case, all the most important
influences of civilization.

THE SURF AND THE BORE OF INDIA.

Among the geographical, or rather hydrographical,
features which distinguish the great continent of India,
there are two of a very remarkable kind — the surf and
the bore, the former presenting a formidable obstacle
to the approach of ships towards the port of Madras,
and the latter occurring near the mouths of the great
Indian rivers, such as the Indus and the Ganges.

Madras is one of the most unfavourably situated
cities which have ever risen to eminence; for such is
the state of the sea near it, that no ships can approach
the shore, and all communications between them and
the city are maintained by boats and rafts, the crews of
which go through no small amount of danger in the
transit. The site of the city appears to have been de-
termined on more by accident than design, or such a
formidable obstacle to'freedom of communication would
not have escaped notice. In front of the city the surf

rages in three distinct foamy ridges, which can only
be passed safely by small vessels built expressly for
the duty. These vessels are called massoolahs.

The massoolah is a light, large, and flat-bottomed
boat, without ribs, keel, or other timber ; the broad
planks being sewed at the edges with * kyar,' or line
made from the outer fibres of the cocoa-nut, and are
filled in between the seams with the same material.
Iron is utterly excluded from .the whole fabric. By
this construction the massoolah is rendered lithe and
buoyant enough to meet the violent shocks which it
will have to encounter from the roaring surge ; it yields
to the percussion of the waters, so as, by diminishing
the resistance, to be thrown up safely on the beach
without breaking by the concussion. The management
of these boats requires great dexterity and experience,
the crews being bred from their infancy to the hazard-
ous enterprise. The massoolahs are impelled by broad
elliptical paddles ; and the 'tindaV or master, chants
a wild kind of song, to the cadence of which his
* clashees,' or rowers, keep time, quickening or retard-
ing the motion of the boat as may be necessary to evade
or encounter the stroke of the surf. Thus they approach
the European vessels, which are obliged to anchor at
the back of the surf at a prescribed distance ; and the
passengers and ladies are then transferred from the
larger vessel to the massoolah. They then return ;
and on entering the outer line of surf, which is said to
appal every one who encounters it for the first time,
the rowers simultaneously pause, and the song is sup-
pressed ; but the instant the surf has tumbled over, a
loud shout bursts forth, and the most skilful and
strenuous efforts are made to meet the next ridge of
surf, towards which the massoolah is whirled with
awful rapidity ; and so on till they reach the shore.

The massoolah is always attended by little rafts,
called catamarans, to aid in rescuing the passengers
and bearing them to the shore in the event of the mas-
soolah being upset. In very rough weather the whole
line of coast becomes terrific ; the massoolahs cannot
venture out ; and all intercourse with the shipping
would then be stopped, except for the means afforded
by the catamarans. This simple and singular contriv-
ance consists of two or three Jogs of light wood lashed
together, the outer ones being seven or eight feet long,
by six or eight inches diameter, and the centre one
rather longer. It is rounded off at one end, for the
convenience of progression through the water, and is
paddled by one or two men, who squat on their knees,
in a position which appears to an Englishman a most
uneasy one. The surface is flat, and is level with the
water when the men are properly seated in the centre.
The water is continually washing over them, and yet
these men will remain thus for hours together. It is
very common for them to be washed ofF the catamaran ;
but if they escape the sharks, which are looking out
for prey, they regain their position by expert swimming.
Drencfied as they are with water, these men yet con-
trive to convey letters and despatches between the
ships and the snore without getting them wetted : the
papers are usually placed in their skull-caps, enveloped
with a kind of turban, which, with a cloth round their
middle, are the only articles of dress they require.

The catamaran-men often receive medals of distinc-
tion from the Indian government for having saved the
lives of persons who have been upset from the massoo-
lahs. Tlie singularity in the nature of the surf which
these men have to encounter is, that it is often most
violent in calm weather; hence there frequently
occurs sad destruction of shipping in the Madras
Roads. A writer in a recent volume of the ' United
Service Journal,' describing the Madras surf from per-
sonal observation, gives the following as one among
many instances of the dangerous character of the spot

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for shipping : — " On the 2nd May, 1811, Madras was
visited by a storm of such fury as to create both de-
struction and sorrow. Before the commotion of the
elements began, one hundred and twenty ships and
vessels proudly rode at their anchors : in the morning
all these, including H.M. ships Dover and Chichester,
either bilged or foundered, and were strewed in frag-
ments along the shore. Fewer lives were sacrificed
than could have been expected, considering the extent
of the calamity, and that numbers of the vessels sunk
at their anchors ; but neither of the men-of-war lost a
single man. It is, however, quite frightful to ponder
on the extent to which our naval means would pro-
bably have been destroyed had this storm come on
sooner. But ten days before the expedition had sailed
for Java, with a strong squadron of men-of-war, twelve
Company's cruizers, and sixty transports, with twelve
thousand soldiers on board, all of which must have
been wrecked."

It is not yet clearly proved how this formidable
surf may be most correctly accounted for. The pro-
babilities arc, that the formation of the coast near
Madras, the narrowing of the Bay of Bengal as it re-
cedes towards the north, the flowing of the equatorial
current against the coast, and the nature of the bottom,
as to depth, shoals, &c\, all exert their influence in the
production of the surf; but, to what extent, future
hydrographical researches must show.

Let us next pass on to notice the ' bore,' or rushing
tide, at the mouths of some of the Indian rivers. This
is a remarkable periodic phenomenon, depending in
some way on the flow of the tide into an estuary not
calculated to give sufficient space for the due recep-
tion of the waters. The Ganges, the Indus, and the
Bay of Cambay are the parts of India where this re-
markable rush of waters takes place. We will take
the accounts of these bores from travellers who have
visited the respective spots.

The Rev. Iiobart Gaunter, in one of the volumes
of the ' Oriental Annual,' gives an account of the bore
at the Ganges*. It may be proper to premise that the
Ganges enters the Bay of Bengal by innumerable
mouths, none of which are navigable for large ships
except that branch called the Hooghly, on the banks
of which the city of Calcutta is built. The Hooghly
passes by Calcutta with a broad, deep, and tranquil
current; but between the city and the sea there are
many shoals and sandbanks. On this branch of the
river occurs the bore, a violent flux of the water, which
rushes up the stream at certain intervals with such ex-
treme violence as to swamp everything within its
influence. Its power is chiefly confined to the sides
of the river, being scarcely felt in mid-channel, where
the Indiamen generally lie at anchor.

This sudden influx of the tide commences at Hooghly
Point, where the river first contracts its width, and is
perceptible above Hooghly Town. So (juick is its
motion, that it hardly employs four hours in travelling
from one to the other, although the distance is nearly
seventy miles. It does not run on the Calcutta side,
but along the opposite bank, from whence it crosses at
Chitpoor, about four miles above Fort William, and
proceeds with great violence in its upward course.
At Calcutta it sometimes occasions an instantaneous
rise of five feet. So impetuous is the rush of the
water, that if small vessels at anchor are not prepared
to receive it, they must be infallibly upset. Ships at
anchor, being generally in mid-channel, where its
influence is little felt, escape with a few uneasy
roils. If, however, larger Vessels arc overtaken by it,
the shock is prodigious, and at times serious mischief
ensues, especially if they arc struck upon the broad-

* For a notice of the Ganges, and a view of the ' bore ' from
a drawing by Mr. W. Wcstall, 8ic No. 162

side. By turning their prows towards the current
little or no injury is sustained. The bore rises com-
monly to the height of eighteen feet, and invariably
produces a sensation of great terror near the shore,
where small boats are always moored in considerable
numbers ; and much alarm is excited when one of the
visits of this formidable enemy is expected, for the
frequency of its occurrence has not by any means had
the effect of calming apprehension.

In the river Brahmapootra, which enters the Bay of
Bengal, not far from the eastern mouth of the Ganges,
the bore is witnessed, of a similar character to the
above. In the channels between the islands near the
mouth of the river, the height of the bore is said to
exceed twelve feet ; and it is so terrific in its appear-
ances, and so dangerous in its consequences, that no
boat will venture to navigate there at spring- tide. It
does not, however, ascend to so great a distance up the
Brahmapootra as up the Ganges, probably on account
of some peculiar conformation of the shores.

The late lamented Sir Alexander Burnes, when
speaking of the Indus, in the following terms described
the bore often observed at that river : — " The tides rise
in the months of the Indus about nine feet, at full
moon ; and flow and ebb with great violence, par-
ticularly near the sea, where they flood and abandon
the banks with equal and incredible velocity. It is
dangerous to drop the anchor unless at low-water, as
the channel is frequently obscured, and the vessel may
be left dry." The description of the passage of Alex-
ander's boats down the Indus, as given by Arrian, was
the first intimation given of this rushing tide, and
serves to corroborate other portions of the testimony.

Irt the Gulf of Cambay there is a very remarkable
bore, arising from the peculiar formation of the coast.
It will be seen by inspecting a map, that this gulf runs
up between Bombay and the peninsula of Guzerat
in the western coast of India ; that it is very irregular
in shape, that it runs deeply into the land, and that
several rivers flow into it. Many shoals occur in
different parts of the gulf, by which the flood of waters
occasioned by the tides are divided into various
channels or distinct currents ; and up two of the prin-
cipal of these currents the phenomenon of the bore is
observed. Lieutenant Ethersey, of the Indian navy,
communicated to the Geographical Society, a few
years ago, an account of these two bores, and of an
observation which he made in person on one of them.
In February, 1835, in order to try the effect of the bore
on a large-sized ' bander-boat/ and at the same time
to ascertain the strength of the stream after the wave
had passed, Lieut. Ethersey anchored the boat at
spring-tide half a mile to the northward of what was
then the last cape on the western side of the gulf.
Although the anchorage was in five fathoms, the boat
grounded at low-water, and was left high and dry. A
few hours afterwards, the noise of the bore was heard,
when every precaution was immediately taken for the
safety of the boat. The night was still and calm, and
the roar of the rushing tide, as it approached, echoing
among the neighbouring cliffs, is described as having
been truly awful. The bore struck the boat, lifted
her, and threw her violently round on her bil^e ; in
which position she was forced before it, broadside on,
for the space of five minutes, the grapnel being of no
\ise, for it was carried faster than the boat. So vio-
lently was the boat shaken, that her commander
thought she would go to pieces. However, no ac-
cident happened ; for, on getting to a hollow in the
sand-bank, which was quickly filled, the boat righted.
By subsequent experiments made with the log-line, it
was found that the bore rushed up with a velocity
of about ten * knots ' an hour.

The same volume of the Society's Journal in which

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Lieutenant Ethersey's observations are recorded con-
tains also a letter from Captain Jervis, of the Com-
pany's Service, relative to the same subject. He
crossed the Gulf of Cambay, in a small schooner t>f
about thirty tons burden, manned by sailors from
G6geh, a class of people who are remarkably courage-
jus and expert at sea. " The coolness and dexterity
with which they secured and righted the vessel on the
rusk of the first wave," says he, " is still fresh in my
memory; and I remarked, that in casting anchor
every day, as the tide went out, when tnc vessel
grounded in the mud, the tindal, or master, of the
vessel invariably took the precaution of selecting some
spot in the direct line of its progress, that is, in the
main channel, where he said* there was less danger to
be apprehended than in the neighbourhood of the
shores, in cousequencc of the recoil or curl of the tide
alongshore, and the falling in of the loose banks. The
core appeared to set in like* a straight wall of water
with a head of five or six feet, each succeeding wave
decreasing more and more, till the whole gulf was
reduced to the same level as the sea without. We
heard it approach several minutes before it came
upon us, when we were fairly lifted up, and afloat in
an instant."

This phenomenon of the bore has been thus accounted
for. From a comparison of those rivers of India which
exhibit the bore, with those which do not, it seems
necessary for the production of this effect that the
rivers should fall into an estuary, that this estuary be
subject to high tides, and that it contract gradually ;
and lastly, that the river also narrow by degrees. Tne
rise of the sea at spring-tides drives a great volume of
water into the wide entrance of the estuary, where it
accumulates, not being able to flow off quick enough
into the narrower part. The tide therefore enters
with the greater force the narrower the estuary be-
comes ; and when it reaches the mouth of the river
the swell has already obtained a considerable height
above the descending stream, and rushes in like a
torrent. It is as if water were entering into a funnel-
shaped mouth which becomes too small to give it
adequate room ; and hence the same phenomenon
may be exhibited in the Gulf of Cambay as in the
Indian rivers, if the form of the coasts be alike.

The bore is exhibited, to a greater or less extent,
on the shores of Brazil, in the rivers Araquari and
Mcary; and in England, on a small scale, in the
Severn, the Trent, the Wye, and the Solway Frith.

Geography and HUtory. — I said that geography held out one
hand to geology and physiology, while she held out the other to
history. In fact, geology and physiology themselves are closely
connected with history. For instance, what lies at the bottom of
that question which is now being discussed everywhere — the
question of the corn-laws — but the geological fact that Eugland
is more richly supplied with coal-mines than any other country
in the world? What has given a peculiar interest to our relations
with China, but the physiological fact, that the tea-plant, which
is become so necessary to our daily life, has been cultivated
with equal success in no other climate or country? What is it
which threatens the permanence of the union between the
northern and southern states of the American confederacy, but
the physiological fact, that the soil and climate of the southern
states render them essentially agricultural, while those of the
northern states, combined with their geographical advantages as
to sea-ports, dispose them no less naturally to be manufacturing
anil commercial ? The whole character of a nation may be in-
fluenced by its geology and physical geography. Rut. for the
sake of its mere beauty and liveliness, if there were no other con-
sideration, it would be worth our while to acquire this richer
view of geography. Conceive only the difference between a
ground-plan ami a picture. The mere plan-geography of Italy
gives us its,shaj>e, as I have observed, and the position of its
towns; to these it may add a semicircle of mountains round the
northern boundary to represent the Alps, and another long line

stretching down the middle of tlie country to represent the
Apennines. But let us carry ou this a little further, and give
life, and meaning, and harmony to what is at present at once
lifeless and confused. Observe, in the first place, bow the
Apennine line, beginning from the southern extremity of the
Alps, runs across Italy to the very edge of the Adriatic, and
thus separates naturally the Italy Proper of tbe Romans from
Cisalpine Gaul. Observe, again, how the Alps, after running
north and south, where they divide Italy from France, turn then
away to the eastward, running almost parallel to the Apennines,
till they too touch the head of the Adriatic on the confines of
I stria. Thus betweeu these two lines of mountains there is en-
closed one great basin or plain, enclosed on three sides by moun-
tains, open only on the east to the sea. Observe bow widely it
spreads itself out, and then see how well it is watered. One
great river flows through it in its whole extent, and this is fed by
streams almost unnumbered, descending towards it on either
side, from the Alps on the one side, and from the Apennines on
the other. Who can wonder that this large, and rich, and well-
watered plain should be filled with flourishing cities, or that it
should have !>een contended for so often b> successive invaders ?
Then descending into Italy Proper, we find the complexity of
its geography quite in accordance with its manifold political
division. It is not one simple central ridge of mountains,
leaving a broad belt of level country on either side between it
and the sea ; nor yet is it a chain rising immediately from tbe
sea on oue side, like the Andes in South America, and leaving
room, therefore, on the other side for wide plains of table-land,
and rivers with a sufficient length of course to become at last
gnat and navigable. It is a back-bone thickly set with spines
of unequal length, some of them running out at regular distances
parallel to each other, but others twisted so strangely, that they
often run for a long way parallel to the back-bone, or main
ridge, and interlace with one another in a mate almost inextri-
cable. And, as if to complete the disorder, in those spots where
the spines of the Apennines, being twisted round, run parallel to
the sea and to their own central chain, and thus leave an interval
of plain between their l>ases and the Mediterranean, volcanic
agency has broken up the space thus left with other and dis-
tinct groups of hills of its own creation, as in the case of Vesu-
vius and of the Alban bills near Rome. Speaking generally,
then, Italy is made up of an infinite multitude of valleys pent
in between high and steep hills, each forming a country to itself,
and cut off by natural barriers from the others. Its several parts
are isolated by nature, and no art of man can thoroughly unite
them. Even the various provinces of the same kingdom are
strangers to each other ; the Abruzzi are like an unknown world
to the inhabitants of Naples, insomuch, that when two Neapolitan
naturalists, not ten years since, made an excursion to visit tbe
Majella, one of the highest of the central Apennines, they found
there many medicinal plants growing in the greatest profusion,
which the Neapolitans were regularly in the habit of importing
from other countries, as no one suspected their existence within
their own kingdom. Hence arises the romantic character of
Italian scenery ; the constant combination of a mountain outline
and all the wild features of a mountain country, with the rich
vegetation of a southern climate in the valleys. Hence too the
rudeness, the pastoral simplicity, and the occasional robber
habits, to be found in the population : so that to this day you
may travel in many places for miles together in the plains and
valleys without passing through a single town or village; for the
towns still cluster ou the mountain sides, the houses nestling
together on some scanty ledge, with cliffs rising above them and
sinking down abruptly below them, the very *' congest* manu
pnrruptis opp'ula saxis" of Virgil's description, which he even
then called " antique walls," because they had t>ccn the strong-
holds of the primaeval inhabitants of the country, and which are
still inhabited after a lapse of so many centuries, nothing of the
stir and movement of other parts of Europe having penetrated
into these lonely valleys, and tempted the people to quit their
mountain fastnesses for a more accessible^ dwelling in the plain.
I have been led on further than I intended, but I wished to
give an example of what I meant by a real and lively know-
ledge of geography, which brings the whole character of a
country before our eye?*, and enables us to understand its influ-
ence upon the social and political condition of its inhabitants.
And this knowledge, a-» I said before, is very important to enable
us to follow clearly the external revolutions of different nations,
which we want to comprehend before we penetrate to what has
been passing within. — Dr. Arnold** Lecture* on History.

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ESSAYS ON THE LIVES OF REMARKABLE
PAINTERS— No. III.

Giotto,

Born 1276, di.-d 1336.

u Credette Cimabuc nella Pittura
Terwr lo camjK), ed ora ha Giotto il grido ;—
Sicche ]a fama di colui oscura."

l ' Cimabue thought

To lord it over painting's field ; and now
The cry is Giotto's, and his name eclijis'd.*

Carey* g Dante.

These often-quoted lines-, from Dante's ' Purgatorio,'
must needs be once more quoted here: for it is a
curious circumstance that, applicable in his own day,
five hundred years ago, they should still be so appli-
cable in ours. Open any common history not intended
for the very profound, and there we still find Cimabue
44 lording it over painting's field," and placed at the
head of a revolution in art, with which, as an artist, he
bad little or nothing to do, — but much as a man ; for
to him — to his quick perception and generous protec-
tion of talent in the lowly shepherd-boy, we owe Giotto,
than whom no single human being of whom we read

had, in any particular department of science or art, a
more immediate, wide, and lasting influence. The
total change in the direction and character of art must
in all human probability have taken place sooner or
later, since all the influences of that wonderful period
of regeneration were tending towards it. Then did
architecture struggle as it were from the Byzantine
into the Gothic forms, like a mighty plant pwting
forth its rich foliage and shooting up towards heaven ;
then did the speech of the people— the vulgar tongues,
as they were called — begin to assume their present
structure, and become the medium through which
beauty, and io?e, and action, and feeling, and thought
were to be uttered and immortalized ; and then arose
Giotto, the destined instrument through which his
own beautiful art was to become not a mere fashioner
of idols, but one of the great interpreters of the
human soul with all its "infinite" of feelings and
faculties, and of human life in all its multifarious
aspects. Giotto was the first painter, who •• held as it
were the mirror up to nature. ' Cimabue's strongest
claim to the gratitude of succeeding ages is, that he
bequeathed such a man to his native country and to
the world.
About the year 1289, when Cimabue was already

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old and at the height of his fame, as he was riding in
the valley of Vespignano, about fourteen miles from
Florence, his attention was attracted by a boy who
was herding sheep, and who, while his flocks were
feeding around, seemed intently drawing on a smooth
fragment of slate, with a bit of pointed stone, the
figure of one of his sheep as it was quietly grazing
before him. Cimabue rode up to him, and looking
with astonishment at the performance of the untutored
boy, asked him if he would go with him and learn ;
to which the boy replied, that he was right willing, if
his father were content The father, a herdsman of
the valley, by name Bondone, being consulted, gladly
consented to the wish of the noble stranger, and Giotto
henceforth became the inmate and pupil of Cimabue.

This pretty story, which was first related by Lorenzo
Ghiberti, the sculptor (born 1378), and since by Vasari
and a thousand others, luckily rests on evidence as
satisfactory as can be given for any events of a rude
and distant age, and may well obtain our belief, as
well as gratify our fancy ; it has been the subject of
many pictures, and is prettily introduced in Rogers's
•Italy:'

" Let us wander thro' the fields

Where Cimabue found the shepherd-lioy
Tiacing his idle fancies on the ground."

Giotto was about twelve or fourteen years old when
taken into the house of Cimabue. For his instruction in
those branches of polite learning necessary to an artist,
his protector placed him under the tuition of Brunctto
Latini, who was also the preceptor of Dante. When,
at the age of twenty-six, Giotto lost his friend and
master, he was already an accomplished man as well as
a celebrated painter, and the influence of his large
original mind upon the later works of Cimabue is
distinctly to be traced.

The first recorded performance of Giotto was a
painting on the wall of the Palazzo dell' Podesta, or
council-chamber of Florence, in which were intro-
duced the portraits of Dante, Brunctto Latini, Corso
Donati, and others. Vasaii speaks of these works
as the first successful attempts at portraiture in the
history of modern art. They were soon afterwards
plastered or whitewashed over during the triumph of
the enemies of Danjtc ; and for ages, though known
to exist, they were lost and buried from sight. The
hope of recovering these most interesting portraits
had long been entertained, and various attempts had
been made at different times without success, till at
length, as late as 18i0, they were brought to light by
the perseverance and enthusiasm of Mr. Bezzi, an
Italian gentleman, now residing in England. On
comparing the head of Dante, painted when he was
about thirty, prosperous and distinguished in his na-
tive city, with the later portraits of him when an exile,
worn, wasted, embittered by misfortune and disappoint-
ment and wounded pride, the difference of expression
is as touching as the identity in feature is indubitable.

The attention which in his childhood Giotto seems
to have given to all natural forms and appearances,
showed itself in his earlier pictures ; he was the first
to whom it occurred to group his personages into
something like a situation, and to give to their attitudes
aud features the expression adapted to it : thin?, in a
very early picture ot the Annunciation he gave to the
Virgin a look of fear ; and in another, painted some-
time afterwards, of the Presentation in the Temple, he
made the Infant Christ shrink from the priest, and
turning, extend his little arms to his mother— the first
attempt at that species of grace and naivete of ex-
pression afterwards carried to perfection by Raffaelle.
These and other works painted in his native city so
astonished his fellow-citizens, and all who beheld them,
by their beauty and novelty, that they seem to have

wanted adequate words in which to express the excess
of their delight and admiration, and insisted that the
figures of Giotto so completely beguiled the sense that
they were mistaken for realities. A commonplace eulo-
gium, never merited but by the most commonplace
and mechanical of painters.

In the church of Santa Croco, Giotto painted a Coro-
nation of the Virgin, still to be seen, with choirs of
angels on either side. In the refectory he painted
the Last Supper, also still remaining ; a grand, solemn,
simple composition, which, in the endeavour to give
variety of expression and attitude to a number of per-
sons — all seated, and all but two actuated by a similar
feeling, must still be regarded as extraordinary. In a
chapel of the church of the Carmine at Florence, he
painted a series of pictures from the life of John the
Baptist. These were destroyed by fire in 1771 ; but,
happily, an English engraver, then studying at Flo-
rence, named Patch, had previously made accurate
drawings from them, whicn he engraved and pub-
lished. The two angels in the wood-cut at the head of
this article are copied from one of these engravings.
A fragment of the old fresco, containing the heads
of two of the Apostles, who are bending in grief
and devotion over the body of St. John, is now in the
collection of Mr. Rogers, the poet. It certainly justi-
fies all that has been said of Giotto's power of expres-
sion, and, when compared with the remains of earlier
art, more than excuses the wonder and enthusiasm of
his contemporaries.

The pope, Boniface VIII., hearing of his marvellous
skill, invited him to Home ; and the story says, that the
messenger of his Holiness, wishing to have some proof
that Giotto was indeed the man he was in search of,
desired to see a specimen of his excellence in his art .
hereupon, Giotto taking up a sheet of paper, traced on
it with a single flourish ot his hand a circle so perfect
that " it was a miracle to sec ;"' and (though we know not
how or why) seems to have at once converted the pope
to a belief of'his superiority over all other painters.
This story gave rise to the well-known Italian proverb,
" Piu tondo che 10 di Giotto" (rounder than the O of
Giotto), and is something like a story told of one of
the Grecian painters: but to return. Giotto went to
Rome, and there executed many things which raised
his fame higher and higher; and among them, for
the ancient Basilica of St. Peter's, the famous mosaic
of the Navicella, or the Bared, as it is sometimes called.
It represents a ship, with the Disciples, on a temjws-
tuous sea; the winds, personified as demons, rage
around it. Above are the Fathers of the Old Testa-
ment ; on the right stands Christ, raising Peter from
the waves. The subject has an allegorical significance,
denoting the troubles and triumphs of the Church.
This mosaic has often changed its situation, and has
been restored again and again, till nothing of Giotto's
work remains but the original composition. It is now
in the vestibule of St. Peter's at Rome.

For the same Pope Boniface, Giotto painted the In-
stitution of the Juoilee of 1300, which still exists in
the Lateran at Rome.

In Padua Giotto painted the chapel of the Arena
with frescoes from the life of Christ and the Virgin, in
fifty square compartments. Of this chapel the late
Lady Callcott published an interesting account : there
is exceeding grace and simplicity in some of the out-
line groups with which her work is illustrated, par-
ticularly trie Marriage of the Virgin and St. Joseph.
At Padua Giotto met his friend Dante ; and the in-
fluence of one great genius on another is strongly ex-
emplified in some of his succeeding works, and par-
ticularly in his next grand performance, the frescoes in
the church of Assisi. In the under church, and im-
mediately over the tomb of St. Francis, the painter

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represented the three tows of the Order— Poverty,
Chastity, and Obedience ; and in the fourth compart-
ment, the Saint enthroned and glorified amidst the
host of Heaven. The invention of the allegories under
which Giotto has represented the vows of the Saint, his
Marriage with Poverty— Chastity seated in her rocky
fortress— and Obedience with the curb and yoke, are
ascribed by a tradition to Dante *. Giotto also painted,
in the Campo Santo at Pisa, the whole history of Job,
of which only some fragments remain.

[To be continued ]

ECONOMICAL USES OF THE BIRCH-TREE.

Thb Birch is one of that numerous list of forest-trees
for which man has — in almost every part of the tempe-
rate climates — reason to be grateful. Its wood, its
hark, its leaves, all are brought into profitable employ-
ment, in some cases by the ruder natives more than by
those in which civilization has made further progress ;
hut in other cases, by the artizans of such a country
as England, more than by those less skilled. The com-
mon or European birch is the species which affords
the largest variety of uses ; but we may notice a few
others in combination with it.

The general character of birch-trees is as follows : —
They are natives of Europe, chiefly of the most north-
ern parts, or of high elevations in the south ; of North
America ; and of some parts of Asia. They are gene-
rally found in mountainous rocky situations in the
middle of Europe ; but they grow wild in plains and
peaty soils in the northern regions. The common
birch is one of the hardiest of known trees ; and there
are only one or two other species of ligneous plants
which approach so near to the north pole. The com-
mon bircu has been known from the earliest ages ; and
it has long been a most valuable tree to the inhabitants
of the extreme north of Europe ; as the kind called
the canoe- birch has been to those of North America.

The common birch is a diminutive shrub in the ex-
treme north; but in the middle regions of Europe it
becomes a tree of fifty or sixty feet in altitude. In the
latter case it is known from all other forest-trees by
the silvery whiteness of its outer bark ; and this bark
constitutes one of the most valuable products of the tree.
The birch has been more or less known from remote
times, and has been noticed both by the classic writers
and by poets. According to Pliny and Plutarch, the
celebrated books which Numa Pompilius composed
about seven hundred years before Christ, and which
were buried with him on Mount Janiculum, were
written on the bark of the birch-tree. In the early
days of Rome, the lictors had their fasces made of
birch branches, which they carried before the magis-
trates to clear the way. 1 he branches were formerly
used in England for ornamenting the houses during
Rogation-week, in the same manner as holly now is at
Christmas; and Gerard tells us that they "serve well
to the decking up of houses, and banqueting- rooms
for places of pleasure." There is one notice of the
use of birch, in past writers, which, if it do not occur
at once to the mind of a reader, will be easilv brought
to his recollection. Evelyn says that bircn cudgels
were used by the lictors, as now the gentler rods by
our tyrannical pedagogues, for lighter faults." Gerard
observes, too, that in his time " parents and school-
masters do terrify their children with rods made of
birch." A foreign writer remarks that the sight of a
birch-tree " offers a vast subject of interesting medita-
tion ; but happy the man to whom its flexible pendent

* In the 'Divina Commcedia* (« Paradiio,' c.xi.), Dante de-
scribes the marriage of St. Francis and Poverty in words which
teem only to hare been rendered into form by the painter.

branches do not recall to mind that they were formerly
instruments of punishment to him. 1 ' Lastly we may
quote from Shenstone's ' Schoolmistress :'

" And all in sight cloth rise a birchen tree,
Which Learning near her little dome did stow :
Whilome a twig of small regard to see,
Though now so wide its waving branches flow,
And work the simple vassals mickle woe :
For not a wind might curl tlte leaves that blew
But their limbs shudder 'd, and their pulse beat low;
And, as they look'd, they found their horror grew,
And shaped it into rods, and tingled at the view.*'

But leaving the scholastic use (or abuse) of the
birch, let us turn our attention to the services which
the tree renders in the various arts of life. Mr.
Loudon has collected a surprising list of such uses.

The wood of the common birch is White, shaded
with red; of a medium durability in temperate cli-
mates, but lasting a long time when it is grown in the
extreme north. The grain of the wood is moderately
fine, and it is worked with more facility in the green
than in the dry state. The wood of old trees is both
harder and heavier than that of young ones. It soon
rots when laid on the ground in heaps ; and, therefore,
immediately after the trees are felled it is deemed
advisable to convey them at once to the timber-yard,
without leaving them to exposure in the forests. The
wood is employed by wheelwrights in France for the
felloes of wheels ; and, in the interior of Russia, in the
construction of small rustic carriages ; the felloes of
the wheels being sometimes made of one entire stem
of a young birch-tree, bent by heat, and retained in
its place by ties of the spray. On the Continent,
chairs, and many kinds of furniture, are made of birch-
wood : and many articles of cooperage and turnery ;
as also sabots. For cabinet-making, the birch is of
little use till it has attained the aj^e of sixty or eighty
years, as previously the wood is liable to warp and to
be attacked by worms. The tree occasionally produces
knots of a reddish tinge, marbled, light, and solid, but
not fibrous ; and of these the Laplanders make cups
and bowls by means of sharp knives, and turners also
seek for such specimens. In the Highlands of Scot-
land the wood of the birch is used in a singular variety
of ways : it has been said that the Highlanders " make
everything of it : they build their houses of it ; make
their beds, chairs, tables, dishes, and spoons of it;
construct their mills of it ; make their carts, ploughs,
barrows, gates, and fences of it; and even inanufac
ture ropes of it." Evelyn mentions two uses of birch
wood which seem now to be obsolete : — " from the
whitest part of the old wood, found commonly in
doating birches, is made the ground of our effeminate
fanned gallants' sweet-powder;" and "of the quite
consumed and rotten wood is gotten the best mould for
the raising of divers seedlings of the rarest plants and
flowers."

Directing our attention next to the branches and the
spray on young shoots, we find an extraordinary variety
of services rendered by them in different countries.
These portions of the tree make hoops, brooms or
besoms, ties for faggots, baskets, wicker-hurdles, and
other similar articles : and when peeled arc used for
making whisks for frothing up syllabubs, creams, and
chocolate. In Poland, Russia, Sweden, Norway, and
Lapland small bundles of the twigs, which hayc been
gathered in summer, and dried with the leaves on, an?
used in the vapour-baths, by the bathers, for flagel-
lating each other as productive of perspiration. The
inhabitants of the Alps make torches of the branches.
In Lapland and Kamtschatka the huts are constructed
with birch branches covered with turf ; and faggots of
the spray with the leaves on, in cases formed of rein-
deer-skins, serve for seats during the day and for beds

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at night In the Highlands the branches are employed
as fuel in the distillation of whiskey, being found to
impart a flavour to it far superior to that produced by
the use of fir-wood, coal, or peat. Birch spray is also
used for smoking hams and herrings, and is preferred
to other kinds of fuel for a similar reason. It is like-
wise employed for thatching cottages and huts ; and,
when dried in summer with the leaves on, forms the
bed of many a Highlander.

The leaves, catkins, and other green parts con-
tribute in various ways to increase the utility of the
birch. The leaves are rather bitter to the taste, but
are willingly eaten by goats and rabbits ; and although
not usually regarded as food for cattle, they may be so
employed when youn^ and fresh; indeed they are
dried for this purpose in Norway and Sweden. As a
medicinal agent, it has been said that persons afflicted
with rheumatism, by sleeping on a bed Btuffed with
birch-leaves experience a perspiration which affords
them great relief. A yelJow colour is obtained from
them, which is used for painting in distemper, and for
dyeing wool. The buds and the catkins afford a kind
of wax analogous to that of bees. The Finlanders
use the dried leaves as tea.

The bark is yet more valuable than the branches or
leaves, and forms a material without which the in-
habitants of the cold northern countries would be
deprived of many of their slender comforts. This
substance is remarkable for its durability, remaining
uncorrjupted for ages, even in situations exposed al-
ternately to air and water, cold and moisture ; and it
is to this property tliat the bark owes much of its
value. Gilpin relates a circumstance in illustration of
this durability : — " When Maupertuis travelled through
Lapland, to measure a degree of latitude, he was
obliged to pass through vast forests consisting entirely
of birch. The soil in some parts of these wastes
being very shallow or very loose, the trees had not a
sufficient footing for their roots, and became an easy
prey to wind. In these places Maupertuis found as
many trees blown down as standing. He examined
several of them, and was surprised to see that, in such
as had lain long, the substance of the wood was entirely
gone, but the bark remained, a hollow trunk, without
any signs of decay." Another circumstance is worthy
of note as exemplifying this preservative quality in the
bark. In the mines of Devoretzkoi, in Siberia, a
piece of birch-wood was found changed entirely into
stone ; while the epidermis of the bark, of a satiny and
glossy whiteness, was exactly in its natural state.

In some countries the bark of birch is used as coping
to walls, and is placed over the masonry of vaults
underground, as lead is in England, to prevent the
moisture of the soil from penetrating through it ; and
it is for a similar reason wrapped round sills and the
lower end of posts and other pieces of wood inserted in
the ground, to preserve them from decay. The bark
of large trees, cut into pieces measuring about three
feet by two, serves the Laplanders as a kind of cape or
eloak, a bole being made in it in the centre to admit
the head : sometimes several pieces are used, with the
holes only at one end ; and these, put over the head,
and hanging down on every side, form a protection
from rains and snows more impenetrable than any
English garment. The same people, and also the
Russians, convert the bark of the smaller trees into
boots and shoes; the legs of the boots being taken
from trees about the same thickness as a man's leg.
The bark is also made into baskets, boxes, mats, cord-
age for harnessing horses and reindeer, and the inner
bark into thread ; while all the fragments are carefully

F reserved for lighting fires or twisting into candles,
t is extensively used by the same people in roofing
houses The rafters are first covered with boards, on

which plates of birch-bark are laid in the same way as
slates are in England ; and the wnole is covered with
turf and earth, to the depth of a foot or more, to ex-
clude the heat in summer and the cold in winter. This
exterior coating of earth is commonly covered with
grass, and sometimes cultivated; and Dr. Clarke
mentions that on some of the roofs of the Norwegian
cottages, after the hay was taken, he found lambs
pasturing : on one house he saw an excellent crop of
turnips. In Kamtschatka the inner bark is dried and
ground, like that of the Scotch pine, in order to mix it
with oatmeal to form an article of food in times of
scarcity ; and the same people eat the bark in small
pieces along with the roe of fish. The bark is much
employed for tanning; leather, both in Britain and on
the Continent. This employment of it in England
seems to have been new in the time of Evelyn, for he
speaks of "Mr. Howard's new tan, made ot the tops
and loppings of birch." The bark yields a yellowish
brown dye converted to a brownish red by combination
with alum ; and the Russians obtain a similarly
coloured dye for woollen stuffs and reindeer skins from
a decoction of birch spray.

The ashes and the sap of the birch are in like
manner brought into valuable use. As fuel, the birch
ranks nearly on a level with the beech ; the wood gives
a clear, bright, and ardent flame, and affords the kind
of fuel most generally used in Sweden, Russia, and
France for smelting furnaces. Its charcoal burns a
long time, and is much in demand for making gun-
powder and for crayons. The ashes are rich in potash ;
one thousand pounas weight of the wood, burnt green,
will give between ten and eleven pounds of ashes,
which will afford about twenty ounces of potash. In
the birch, as in other trees, the potash is most abund-
ant in the bark, and consequently the small branches
yield more in proportion than the trunk.

F<getation of Hatern Australia. — One marked peculiarity of
the vegetation of Australia is its harshness. The leaves of all
the trees and shrubs are tough and rigid, frequently terminating
in a thorn or very sharp point ; and to the traveller in the
Australian forest, who may have to push his way through them,
they present a serious inconvenience and obstacle. If it were
required to select from among the plants of Europe such as
would be the types or representations of the botany of Australia,
the choice would probably fall upon the laurels, or laurestinas,
as corresponding to the eucalypti, or gum-trees; the firs (abies)
as answering to the casuarinas j the yew to the Nuytsia flori-
buuda, or cabl>age~tree ; and the holly to the dryandras, and
one species of the Bank si a. The bulrush, the furze, and the sow-
thistle arc indigenous in New Holland, as in England. The trees
of Western Australia possess two remarkable features ; the foliage,
with few exceptions, is extremely thin, and the leaves present
their edges to the sun: so that, although an expanse of forest
land, interminable to the eye, will often extend on all sides of
the traveller, it affords him but little shelter from the force of
the sun's rays, and nothing of that cool and refreshing shade
which is characteristic of sylvan scenery in Europe. The pro-
found silence whieh prevails in these vast primeval forests is also
very striking. It often happens that no stirrings of life in any
shape will fall upon the ear; that nothing will be heard to sound
or seen to move: neither the song of a bird, the buzz of a
winged insect, the chirp of the lizard or grasshopper, nor the
whisper of the wind, disturbing for a moment the deep repose
and almost unnatural loneliness of the untrodden scene. In the
open country this solemn stillness is broken by a thousand tones,
by the bounding of the agile kangaroo, the scream of the
calyprorhynchus, or black cockatoo, or by the cry of the plycto-
lophus, or white cockatoo, a sound, which though not less
dissonant, is more agreeable, as the presence of the bird always
indicates the neighbourhood of water. But in moving through
the country during a calm summer's day, if an individual should
stray behind his party, and gaze on them from an eminence as
they proceed on their journey, the whole scene might remind
him of the bright and noiseless representations of a camera
obscura. — Wtsltm Anttratia,

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[CVJar m the grounds of the late T. X. Longman at Humpsttail.J

CEDAR OF LEBANON.

Thb cedar, the noblest of the cone-bearing trees, is
well calculated to excite admiration from its intrinsic
grandeur; while the associations connected with its
frequent mention in the Bible render it still more in-
teresting. To understand the feelings of the sacred
writers in reference to the cedar, we must recollect
that they lived in a country in which trees do not much
abound, and that their grateful shade would have been
most acceptable in the hot season. In passing over
barren sandy deserts and rugged mountain tracts the
shadow of the rock, rather than the shady grove, de-
fended the traveller from the noontide heat. Crossing
the naked ravines of Lebanon, he came to its " goodly
cedars'* (already described in No. 561); and the repose
beneath their stateliness, bulk, and strength could not
but make a deep impression on any one capable of en-
joying the beauty of natural objects. Hence the fre-
quent reference to the cedars of Lebanon in the Bible.
We content ourselves with citing one of these passages,
in which Ezekiel compares the Assyrians to a mighty
cedar : — " Behold the Assyrian was a cedar in Lebanon,
with fair branches, and with a shadowing shroud, and
of an high stature ; and his top was among the thick
boughs. His boughs were multiplied, and his branches
became long. The fir-trees were not like his boughs,
nor the chestnut-trees like his branches, nor any tree

in the garden of God like unto him in beauty." In
this description two of the chief peculiarities of the
cedar arc mentioned. Few trees send out so manv
branches from the main stem ; and the tree which the
prophet had in his eye was one which had reached its
full growth and maturity, for when young, the leading
stem shoots up singly, and does not throw out its
lateral shoots tor some distance from the top ; but as
it approaches its full growth, the elongation of the
main stem in reference to the parts beneath diminishes,
and the lateral branches increase in size and length
until its top is among the thick houghs. The graceful
sweep of its branches and the flat growth of the branch-
lets are very beautiful in the cedar. Its trunk is
massive and bulky in proportion to its height, giving
the idea of strength as well as beauty and elegance ;
and the limbs are proportionally robust. No tree is
perhaps so well calculated to group with grand masses
of architecture. It is quite unsuited to situations which
do not correspond with its dignified appearance.

The introduction of the cedar into England is much
more recent than might have been anticipated ; cer-
tainly not earlier than the latter half of the seventeenth
century. No credit is now attached to the tradition
that an old cedar at Enfield and one at Nendon, the
latter blown down many years ago, were planted by
Queen Elizabeth. Mr. Loudon (« Arboretum') con-
jectures that Evelyn was the first who planted the

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[March 11,

cedar in Britain, and that the tree at Enfield was given
by him to Dr. Uvedale, who resided there between
1655 and 1670. Evelyn praises the cedar in the
4 Sylva,' and, writing in 1664, he terms it a ** beautiful
and stately tree, clad in perpetual verdure :" adding
that " it grows even where the snow lies, as I am told,
almost half the year ; for so it does on the mountains
of Li ban us, from whence I have received cones and
seeds of those few remaining trees. Why then should
it not grow in old England ? I know not, save for
want of industry and trial." The introduction of the
cedar has also been assigned to Sir Stephen Fox, an
ancestor of the Holland family, who planted one at
Farley, near Salisbury, besides several others in the
gardens at Chelsea. The one at Farley was grubbed
up in 1813, and the weight of the timber was found to
be thirteen tons. In Scotland the cedar was first
planted in 1740 by the Duke of Argyle, at Hopeton
House, where three trees are still flourishing.

Although the cedar is a native of a southern coun-
try, yet in its proper habitat it is found growing
at a great elevation, and exposed to a degree of cold
which renders it hardy enough for a northern climate,
and it is said to flourish even better in Scotland than in
England. Sir T. Dick Lauder says that it " will suc-
ceed better in a wet mountain soil in a Highland wood
than in the best garden in the country/' Gravelly and
sandy loams, near water, are very favourable to it, but
in situations which are too dry the tree dwindles into a
bush. When planted for ornamental purposes, it
should enjoy ample space for the full growth of its
branches, on the appearance of which much of its
beauty depends. Instances are mentioned of the cedar
having grown as rapidly as the Scotch pine, the larch,
and the silver fir. Mr. Loudon mentions one which in
forty years reached a height of fifty feet, the diameter
of the bole being three feet six inches. The tallest
cedar in England is said to be one at Strathfieldsaye,
which is one hundred and seven feet high : and the
largest, at Syon House, is seventy -two feet high ; dia-
meter of the trunk at three feet from the ground, eight
feet, and that of the head one hundred and seventeen
feet. The specimen in our cut is seventy feet in
height, and its girth is thirteen feet four inches.

There arc many allusions in ancient writers to the
fragrance and incorruptible qualities of cedar-wood,
but they refer not only to the Lebanon cedar, but to
the wood of the juniper and cypress, which was also
termed cedar. There can be no doubt of the valuable
properties of the Lebanon species for timber, but
hitherto the timber of the same tree grown in England
is not equal in value to the larch, or, in fact, is rather
inferior to it in appearance, besides being of a less du-
rable quality. It resembles common deal ; colour of
a pale reddish white ; texture soft and spongy ; and
the far-famed aroma scarcely exists. Mr. Selby, in his
recent work on • Forest Trees,' regrets that the useful
qualities of the cedar have not been tested by a greater
number of experiments in this country. He also shows
that the extent to which it is capable of being accli-
matized has not yet been proved ; that is, the highest
situation in which it will flourish in this country is
not yet known. He is of opinion that "it would be
found scarcely inferior, in hardihood of constitution, to
the larch, and might be successfully cultivated, either
in masses by itself or mixed with that tree, in those
mountainous districts where the larch grows with the
greatest vigour, and produces the finest timber." Mr.
belby introduces to notice a new species of cedar, a
native of the Himalayas and the mountains of Nepaul,
where it reaches a height surpassing that of the Leba-
non cedar, '* being usually one hundred and fifty feet
at maturity, with a trunk thirty feet in circumference."
The timber is reported to be of excellent quality, re-

markably compact, fine and close in the grain, highly
aromatic, very durable, of a deep rich colour, and ca-
pable of receiving a high polish. It is as ornamental
as it is said to be useful, and will flourish in any part
of Great Britain. Much remains yet to be done in in-
troducing new species of forest-trees into this country.
The owner of a large park could scarcely enter upon a
more gratifying plan of embellishing his property than
by collecting from all countries of parallel latitudes to
Great Britain, and from the elevated mountains of
hotter countries, all those trees which are to be prized
either for ornament or use.

GLOVES AND GLOVERS.

Thx manufacture of gloves is one of those few which
are so far removed from the class of factory operations as
to afford employment to country-people and cottagers
at their own homes, and from the nature of the work
it is likely so to continue. Where no advantage is to
be gained by a combination of different branches of
labour, all tending to one end, beneath one roof, tho
less the freedom and independence of the labourer are
interfered with, the better for all parties.

A slight examination of any of the usual kinds of
gloves will show that whatever be the material of
which they are formed, it is brought into shape by
means of sewing with thread, silk, or worsted ; but
there may be some who have yet to learn that this is
effected by the fingers, just as any other kind of
needlework. Machinery has done much, but it has
not yet made gloves; or, at least, such a feat, if
achieved, is one of the curiosities of manufactures, and
is not yet to be ranked among the features of the
glove-trade. So far as the mass of glove -wearers are
concerned, whether the gloves be * French ' or • Eng-
lish,' whether they be of silk, or cotton, or worsted, or
leather — whether they may have cost four pence or
four shillings, every seam of every glove has been
sewn by the hand.

There are some very curious circumstances attend-
ing the glove, independent of its relation to manufac-
turing industry. It has in various countries and at
different periods been the pledge of friendship, of love,
and of safety ; the symbol of hatred and defiance, of
degradation and honour; the token of loyalty; the
tenure by which estates have been and are held ; and
a customary offering on occasions both of sorrow and
of joy. From an interesting little volume on this sub-
ject by Mr. Hall, we will extract a few examples illus-
trative of these customs and observances of tne glove.

The first law relating to this subject is dated in
the year 790, when Charlemagne granted a right of
hunting to the abbot and monks of Sithin, for the pur-
pose of procuring skins for making gloves and gir-
dles. The abbots and monks having generally adopted
the use of gloves about this period, the bishops inter-
fered, claiming the exclusive privilege for themselves ;
and by the Council of Aix, in the rei^n of Louis le
Debonnaire, about the year 820, the inferior clergy
were ordered to refrain from deer-skin gloves, and to
wear only those made of sheep-skin, as being of hum-
bler quality. It has been deemed not improbable that
at this period the monks made their own gloves, as
they made many other articles for their own use.

So far as England is concerned, the first commercial
notice of the glove-trade is dated about the year 1462,
though gloves had been worn in England for centuries
before. By a law or edict of this date, gloves were
prohibited from being imported into this country by
reason of the protection which it was deemed proper
to give to this branch of home manufacture. Two
years afterwards armorial bearings were granted to
the glovers by Edward IV. At what prices gloves

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were valued in that reign does not appear; but in the
u Privy Expenses of Henry VIII." appear the follow-
ing two items: —
" Item. Puied tbe same daye to Jacson for certeyne

glove< fetched by the serjeant apoticary iiijs. xd.
Item. Puied Jacson for a dousin and halfe of

Spanysshe gloves . • • vijs. vjdV

In many of the customs relative to tbe glove, the
gauntlet is often spoken of as being of equivalent
meaning, but the two arc sufficiently different. The
gauntlet introduced into England by tbe Conqueror
u as a mailed-glove, that is, a stout glove made of deer
or sheep skin, having jointed plates of metal affixed to
the back* and fingers, allowing the perfect use of the
hand ; sometimes there was attached to the top of it a
circular defensive plate, protecting the wrist and
meeting the armour which covered the arm. The
metal of which these plates were composed varied
according to the rank or fancy of the wearer ; some
were of gold or silver inlaid, others of brass, and some
of steel. The gauntlet or buff-glove of the days of
the Commonwealth, such as we see in representations
of the troopers of the seventeenth century, consisted of
a shecp-skin glove, with a stout handsome buffalo-hide
top coining half-way up the arm, contributing much
to a military appearance, and serving as a protection
to the arm. Such gauntlets are worn by several regi-
ments of cavalry in our own day.

The ceremonial use of the glove in matters of in-
vestiture and tenure is illustrated in many ways. We
may take, as an instance, the investment in the family
of Dymocke of the manor of Scrivelsby, under the
condition of the head of the family acting as • cham-
pion ' at the coronation of the English sovereign, in
which tbe glove plays a conspicuous part in the cere-
mony. The sovereign being seated in Westminster
Hall, after leaving the Abbey, the champion enters,
caparisoned as an ancient knight, and the herald-at-
arms proclaims the challenge; the champion then
throws down his gauntlet or glove, which is allowed
to remain on the ground for a short time, and is then
taken up again and returned to the champion : this is
repeated a second time, after which the sovereign
drinks to the champion's health, and presents him the
cup : lastly, the champion takes up his gauntlet and
retires. r l aken in reference to modern taste and opi-
nion, all this may seem to be mere mummery ; but as
a thing of other days it had a significant and important
meaning in it. In like manner the Duke of Norfolk
held the manor of Worksop on condition of paying
certain small fees, and of finding the kiug a right-
hand glove at his coronation, with which glove the
king holds the sceptre with the dove, his right arm
being supported meanwhile by the duke.

The glove has been deemed an emblem of firm posses-
sion. Thus the former kings of France used at their co-
ronation to receive from the archbishop a pair of gloves,
previously blessed, as an emblem of secure possession.
A register of the parliament of Paris, dated 1294,
states that " the Earl of Flanders, by the delivery of a
glove into the king's hands (Philip the Fair), gave
him possession of the good towns of Flanders, viz.
Bruges, Ghent, &c.'* Favyn states that " the custom
of throwing the glove is derived from Eastern nations,
who, in all sales or delivery of lands, &c., gave a glove
by way of livery or investiture." Security, as em-
blemed by the glove, was curiously illustrated by a
custom prevailing until the last few years at Ports-
mouth ; where, during an annual fair called the * Free-
Mart,' a golden or gilt glove was hung outside the
door of the gaol, in the High Street, as a pledge that
the persons of all who attended the fair were secure
from arrest from debt during its continuance, which
was about a fortnight.

Both honour and degradation have been typified by
the glove, according to the circumstances attending
*iie particular occurrence. Walsingham says that
" George Clifford, Earl of Cumberland, was honoured
by a glove being presented to him by Queen Elizabeth.
The Queen had dropped it ; when the Earl taking it
up to return it to her, the Queen presented it to him
as a mark of her high esteem. Ihe Earl adorned it
with jewels, and wore it in his cap on days of tourna-
ment" On the other hand, the same writer tells us
that when the Earl of Carlisle, in the reign of Edward
II., was impeached, and condemned to die as a traitor
among other circumstances attending his degradation
were, that his spurs were cut off with a hatchet, and his
gloves were taken off.

Challenge and defiance have been, in various ages
and countries, conveyed by the glove. Besides the
instance given in reference to the * Champion ' of
England, we have abundant evidence of such chal-
lenges. Shakspere, in • Henry V.* gives a scene which
well represents the nature of the custom, wherein the
glove may be deemed either a pledge or a challenge,
or part of both : —

•* K, He/try. ' Give me any gage of thine, and I will wear
it iu my bonnet. Then, if ever thou darest acknowledge it thiue,
I will make it my quarrel.

Williams. Here's my glove ; give me another of thine.

K. Henry. There.

William*. This will I also wear in my cap : if ever tliou
come to me after to-morrow, and *ay ' This is my glove,' by this
hand I will take thee a box on tlie ear.

K. Henry. If ever I live to see thee, I will challenge thee."

Sir Walter Scott's description of the interview
between Rebecca and Beaumanoir, in ' Ivanhoe.'gives
an instance illustrative of a very usual kind of chal-
lenge by champion-depute; while/ the scene with
Bonthron in the church, in the * Fair Maid of Perth/
similarly illustrates a formal act of defiance: — the
glove in both cases being the emblem. In the * Life
of the Rev. Bernard Gilpin,' it is said, in reference
to the northern borderers of the sixteenth century :
— •• He observed a glove hanging up high in the
church in which he was preaching ; which was
placed there in consequence of a deadly feud prevail-
ing in the district ; and which the owner had hung up
in defiance, daring any one to mortal combat who took
it down." In the ancient •• Trial by Battle," the plain-
tiff was wont to throw down his glove in court, which
was then taken up by the defendant, as a token that
they would settle their differences by the sword's
point A defiance by glove was made in the Court of
king's Bench so late as 1818, and it was not till after
that period that the law by which it was permitted
was expunged from the statute-book.

How swearing " by the glove" could have arisen is
not very clearly to be seen, unless the glove be here,
as in other cases, deemed an emblem of honour and
probity. The reader will call to mind many scattered
illustrations, somewhat similar to the following from
the • Merry Wives of Windsor :' —

*• FaUtaJf. Pistol, did you pick Master Slender's purse 1

Slender. ' Ay, by these gloves, did he — by these glove*.

Pistol. Word of denial — froth and scum — thou lyest!

Slender. By these gloves, 'twas he.*'

The presentation of gloves at weddings and at
funerals is another curious item in the catalogue. A
passage in the ' Winter's Tale' shows that the gift of
gloves at weddings was common in Shakspere's time ;
and the same custom is alluded to in Ben Jon sou's
* Silent Woman, ' where Lady Haughty says to
Morose : —

" We see no ensigns of a wedding here,
"So character of a bridale :
W litre be oui scarves and gloVes?

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As to funerals, the practice of giving gloves at those
solemnities has been traced back to early times. Pope
Leo J. granted permission to bishops and abbots to
near gloves at funerals, and on certain other solemn
occasions. Royal and other noble personages were
often buried with gloves on ; for on opening the tombs
of kings and abbots, gloves have frequently been found
either on the hands or loose in the coffins ; and it was
stated, as an unusual circumstance, that when the
tomb of King Edward I. was opened, no gloves were
Ibund on his hands. In Philip I.'s monument, he is
represented in a recumbent position, holding a glove
in his hand ; and many other cases are recorded, in
which gloves are either buried with a royal or military
personage, or hung up in effigy over his tomb.

The presentation ot gloves as a gift, with or without
money inserted in them, is another custom which lias
passed through many gradatious of society. James I.,
when at Woodstock, received a pair of gloves as a gift
from the University of Oxford. The same monarch
used to receive New Year's Gifts from his subjects,
generally consisting of elegant gloves; and bo like-
wise did his predecessor, Elizabeth. There was for-
merly a custom of presenting judges with gloves ;
but this became an abuse, in a way which the follow-
ing anecdote will illustrate : — A lady, a suitor in
Chancery whose cause had been favourably decided by
Sir T. More, presented him, on the next New Year's
Day, with a pair of gloves containing a considerable
sum of money. His remark was, " I accept the
gloves : it would be against all good manners to
refuse a lady's New Year's Gift, but the lining you
will be pleased to bestow elsewhere.''

Whaling off New Zealand. — The whale-boats are admirably
adapted for the purpose for which they are iu tended. They are
of various construction, and are designated as English, Freucb,
or American: each has some peculiarity to n commend it.
They are capable of resisting the rough sea of Cook's Straits,
but are at the same time swift and buoyant. When starting on
a whaling expedition, the boats leave Te-awa-iti before the dawn
of the morning. Each has either five or six oars, and a crew ac-
cordingly. The boat-steerer and headsman are the principal
men in the boat, and are generally Europeans; the rest are
natives. They pull to the entrance of Tory Channel, where a
view opens over Cook's Straits and Cloudy Bay from the southern
headland, where they keep a " look-out " for the spouting of a
whale. The boat which kills the calf claims the cow, even
though it should have been killed by another boat's crew. If a
whale has been killed, the different boats assist each other in
towing it to Te-awa-iti. I once saw ten or twelve boats towing
in a whale. Each boat had a little flag, and the whole seine
was gay and animated. One day a calf had been killed, and
the cow, having been fastened upon, but not despatched, was
towed inside the channel. Gasping in the agonies of death, the
tortured animal, when close to our ship, threw up jets of blood,
which dyed the sea all around ; and, beating about with its tail,
it broke a boat right in the middle, and threw the crew into the
water ; but it at length died, exhausted from the many wounds
which the irons and harpoons had inflicted. The calf was stated
by the whalers to be six weeks old (on what grounds I do not
know), and was twenty-four feet long. It was cut up in a few
minutes, and gave several barrels of oil. The process was so
rapid, that when I came ashore I found only the head. I cut
out the brains, the weight of which, amounting fo five pounds
and one ounce, astonished me greatly. The whalebone was very
soft, and therefore useless. There were two hundred plates of it
on each side of the roof of the upper jaw. I got the whole roof
cut off; and, intending to dry and preserve it, I placed it on the
roof of a native house ; but on die following morning I had the
mortification to find that the rats and native dogs had found their
way to it in the night, and had eaten all the softer parts, so that
the rest fell to pieces. A portion of the heart of this calf was
roasted and sent to our table. In taste I found it very like heef,
but it was darker in colour. The cow was sixty feet long, and

measured between the ftns on the belly eighty-two inches. Her
skin was a velvet-like black, with the exception of a milk-white
spot round the navel. As regards the colour of the whale, I
have been repeatedly assurrd that it is sorm times speckled ; and
that even perfect albinos, or cream-coloured ones, are seen, which
must indeed be beautiful animals. The fat or blubber of this
w4iale was nine inches thick, ond yielded eight tuns and a half
of oil. Whales have been known to yield twelve or thirteen turn-
out I have been told tliat so large a quantity is now very rarely
obtained, from the great decrease of the wliah s. A whale which
yields nine tuns is at present regarded as a very good one. The
tongue was of a white or ash colour, blackish towards the root.
This organ gave several barrels of oil, and is a monopoly of the
11 tonguer," or •• cutter-in.'' The latter ojieration is performed
in Te-awa-iti near the shores, where, by means of a wiudlast, the
whale is raised to the surface of the water under a scaffold called
the " shears."' The blubber is cut off in square pieces by means
of a sliarp spade : it is then earned to the shore, and immediately
put into the trying-nots. The *' cuttiiig-np*' of a whale, sscar*-
dum artetn, is a process which requires great proficiency, like
that of the skilful dissector, who separates the cutis, and with it
at once all fat and cellular tissue, from the subjacent muscles.
Iu the whale the blubber is to be regarded as the cutis, in the
cellular structure of which the oily matter has liecu deposited.
Shortly after the death of the fish \\vt m epidermis comes off in
large nieces, looking like oiled and dried satin. — DiefftMbwh**
Travel* in New Zealand.

Food of Native* of Autlraita. — Generally speaking, the I
natives live well ; iu some districts there may at particular sea- I
sons of the year be a deficiency of food, but if such is the case,
these tracts are at those times deserted. It is, however, utterly
impossible for a traveller or even for a strange native to judge
whether a district affords an abuudauce of food, or the contrary ;
for iu traversing extensive parts of Australia, I have found the
sorts of food vary from latitude to latitude, so that the vegetable
productions used by the at>origines in one are totally different to
those in another ; if, therefore, a stranger has no one to point out
to him the vegetable productions, the soil beneath his feet may '

teem with food, whilst he starves. The same rule holds good
with regard to animal productions ; for example, In the southern
|nrts of the continent the Xantborrea affords an inexhaustible
supply of fragrant grubs, which an epicure would delight in, #

when once he has so far conquered nis prejudices as to taste
them; whilst in proceeding to the northward, these trees de-
cline iu health ami growth, until about the parallel of Gau-
theaurae Hay they totally disappear, and even a native finds him-
self cut off from his ordinary supplies of insects; the same cir-
cumstances taking place with regard to the roots and other kinds
of food at the same time, the traveller necessarily finds himself
reduced to cruel extremities. A native from the plains, taken
into an elevated mountainous district near his own country, for
the first time, is equally at fault. But in his own district a
native is very differently situated; he knows exactlv what it
produces, the proper time at which the several articles are in
season, and the readiest means of procuring them. According to
these circumstances he regulates his visits to the different por-
tions of his hunting-ground; and I can only state that I have
always found the greatest abundance in their huts. There ar* t
however, two periods of the year when they are at times subjected
to the pangs of hunger ; these are in the hottest time of summer,
and iu the height of the rainy season. At the former period the
heat renders them so excessively indolent, that until forced by
want they will not move; and at the latter, they suffer sj se-
verely from the cold and rain, that I have known them remaiu
for two successive days at their huts without quitting the fire ;
and even when they do quit it, they always carry a fire-stick
with them, which greatly embarrasses their movements. Iu all
ordinary seasons, however, they can obtain in two or three hours
a sufficient supply of food for the day, but their usual custom is
to roam iudoltutly from spot to spot, lazily collecting it as the/
wander along. — Captain Gray* Jam matt.

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[March 18,

firmer texture. The lungs are now rapidly develop-
ing, a change in the routine of the circulation is
gradually taking place, the branchiae are becoming
absorbed ; towards the middle or close of autumn they
disappear, and air, instead of water, becomes the medium
of respiration. In the branchiae of the tadpole of the
newt, when the fore-limbs are beginning to sprout, or
have made some progress, the circulation of the blood
when viewed through a good microscope is calculated
to excite the greatest admiration. Their transparency
is such as to permit the currents of globules rapidly
coursing eacli other to be distinctly seen as they
ascend the arteries and return by the veins to the aorta.
A similar transformation takes place in the tadpole of
the frog, with this addition, that the compressed tail
shrinks as the branchiae arc in progress of obliteration,
and is at last absorbed. In the tadpole condition of
these animals the circulation of the blood resembles
that of fishes. The heart consists of one auricle and
one ventricle. The auricle receives the blood of the
general system, and immediately transmits it to the
ventricle, which is muscular ; from this ventricle it is
propelled through a system of branchial arteries, where
it becomes decarbonized by the action of oxygen ;
from these arteries it passes into the branchial veins,
which ultimately unite to form an aorta, without
the intervention of a second ventricle. Wherr the
branchiie are lost, the heart and circulation have
assumed new characters; the heart then consists of a
ventricle and two auricles, and by wonderful modifi-
cations the branchial becomes transformed into a pul-
monic circulation. The right auricle receives the
blood returned from the system, the left auricle the
freshly oxygenated blood returned from the lungs;
both these auricles transmit their contents into the
ventricle, which thus receives exhausted and also
rc-arlerialized blood, the two fluids becoming more or
less mixed together. Part of this mixed fluid is sent
through the aorta to the system, part through the pul-
monary arteries to undergo a still further degree of
oxygenation in the lungs.

The Great Water- Newt (Triton cristatus) attains to
the length of more than six inches ; and is one of the
most aquatic of its genus, residing almost constantly in
the water : we have, however, several times captured
it in meadows, especially in Cheshire (where it is
termed Asker), at the latter part of the summer : its
bright orange-coloured abdomen with distinct round
spots of black, together with its size, prevent the possi-
bility of confounding it with any other species, except
perhaps the Triton palmipes, of which the under sur-
face is saffron-yellow, or, as Latreille states, white with-
out spots. The great water-newt is active and vora-
cious : it feeds during the spring and summer on the
tadpole of the frog, and also upon the smaller species
6f newt, which it attacks ajid seizes with the utmost
determination ; it will also prey upon worms and insects,
and may be taken by means of a hook baited with a
small worm. It swims vigorously, lashing its com-
pressed tail from side to side, the limbs being so dis-
posed as to offer no resistance to the water : we have
seen it, however, crawl slowly at the bottom of the
water, as well as on land, where its movements are
inert; its small feeble limbs are indeed ineffectual
organs of locomotion. In this respect it differs very
greatly from the common lizard (Zootoca vivipara), the
actions of which are exceedingly prompt and rapid ;
but the scale-clad lizard uses not only its limbs, but its
whole body and tail in a serpent-like manner in pro-
gression, and appears to glide through the tangled
herbage. The newt, like the frog, hybernates ; gene-
rally it lies in a torpid state during the winter in the
mud at the bottom of ponds and ditches. Mr. Bell,
however, states that he has found it hybernating under

stones, and we ourselves on one occasion, early in the
spring, saw several creeping out from under some
large flags placed to support a bank by a road-side
not far from the river Bollen in Cheshire. On taking
up one by the tail, as we well remember, the tail to
our dismay broke short off, and continued for some
time to be rapidly agitated. The same we have seen 4
take place when the common lizard has been seized
in a similar manner. In the newt the tail is re-pro-
duced after such an accident, and, we believe, also in
the lizard : this is certainly the case in the Geckos.

On awaking from its lethargy in the spring, the
male begins to assume a membranous dorsal and
caudal crest, by wfiich he is at once distinguished from
the female. The dorsal crest, which extends along
the whole length of the back down the spine, has its
edge indented ; but that along the tail has the edge
even : with the completion of this crest the colours
become brighter and more decided, and the animal is
more lively and vigorous. At the latter end of April,
and during the months of May and June, the female
deposits her eggs, not, as in the case of the frog, in
multitudes all agglutinated together in a gelatinous
medium, but one by one, each in a distinct spot from
the other. Resting on the leaf of some aquatic plant,
she folds it by means of her two hinder feet, and in the
duplication of the leaf thus made she deposits a single
egg, gluing at the same time the folded parts together,
thus concealing and protecting the enclosed deposit.
This process was first described by Rusconi, and has
since been minutely detailed by Mr. Bell, who has
often observed the process. It is in this manner that
egg after egg, at various intervals, is secured each in a
separate leaf. Soon after their deposition, changes in
the eggs begin to show themselves, with an according
development of the embryo, till its exclusion, when it
passes gradually through the transmutations already
detailed, till it acquires its permanent condition.

The membranous dorsal crest of the male continues
till the autumn, when it is gradually absorbed, and
quite lost during the period of hybernation ; that of
the tail is also greatly reduced, but not entirely, a
trace of it still remaining.

In this species the upper lip is slightly pendulous ;
the teeth are numerous and minute; the head flattened,
the body round, corrugated, and covered with minute
tubercles. There are two patches of simple pores on
each side of the head, and a line of similar pores run-
ning at distant intervals down each side. The upper
parts of the body are dusky-black or yellowish-brown
with darker round spots, the under parts orange with
round spots of black ; the sides are dotted with white ;
the sides of the tail are to a greater or lesser extent of
a silvery-white.

The common Smooth Newt (Lissotriton punctatus,
Bell) differs considerably from the Great Water-Newt
in its habits. It is much more terrestrial, frequenting
damp places, and is often found in cellars and under-
' ground vaults. Shaw indeed, in his • General Zoology/
asserts that the common newt is altogether a terres-
trial species, and contradicts the statement of Linnaeus,
that during its larva or tadpole condition it inhabits
the water.

He says, ** I can safely affirm that I have more than
once met with, specimens in perfectly dry situations, so
extremely minute as scarcely to equal half an inch in
length, which appeared to differ in no respect except
in magnitude from the full-grown animal." We have
seen the same in damp cellars in abundance ; and we
believe them to be the young just emerged from their
tadpole state, at which period numbers leave the
water and visit the land, where they crawl about in
search of a congenial shelter. This fact was observed
by J. Ellis, F.R.S., who asserts, in a letter to the Royal

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Society dated June 5, 1766, that the Water-Eft, or
Newt, is only the larva of the Land-Eft, as tadpoles are
of frogs. Rusconi has amply confirmed Ellis's state-
ment; and other naturalists, among whom we espe-
cially mention Mr. Bell, have watched the progress of
the newt from the egg to maturity, noting every stage
of the transformation.

It is true, however, that these young newts are seen
in places into which it is difficult to conceive how
they could have gained access : one cellar in particular
wc could point out, in which these little creatures were
common, but which was remote from any clear ditch
or pond in which they could have been bred, and yet
they were too small and feeble to have travelled far ;
to say nothing of the impediments of high walls, &c.
in the way of their migration. They were pallid, slow
in their motions, and destitute of all trace of branchiae.
A circumstance relative to the frog involved in a si-
milar difficulty came under our personal observation.
We know indeed that young frogs migrate, and appear
suddenly in great numbers in fields, lanes, &c, as if
they had sprung at once into being ; but the instance
in point cannot be reconciled with this kind of migra-
tion. The fact is as follows : — Our garden is enclosed
with a high wall ; an alluvial soil rests upon a thin
layer of clay, superimposed upon abed of sandy gravel,
below which is the ordinary layer of London clay.
The gravel, when bored, yields water, and wells are
sunk in it. Now in this garden — so placed that no frog,
unless it could leap many feet high or burrow like a
mole, could, as it would seem, enter — in the summer
of 1841 two large colonies of young frogs made their
sudden appearance ; they had just emerged from
their tadpole state, and they occupied different spots.
One colony consisted of light-coloured, ihe other of
very dusky individuals ; and this difference they pre-
served as they grew, to the close of autumn. They
hybernatcd in the mould along the sides of the waif,
under flowerpots and tufted vegetables, and re-
appeared in the following spring. They still continue
in the garden, though their numbers appeared
thinned at the close of last autumn. No fresh colony,
however, made its appearance in the summer, of 1842.
The question is, where could these young frogs, just
out of the tadpole state, have come from. A gentle-
man well known in the scientific world, to whom
we related the fact, and who examined the premises,
agreed that they could not have gained admittance in
the ordinary way. We can scarcely suppose that they
burrowed under the wall. Might not the eggs have
descended from rivulets and flooded drainage-courses
to the ground-springs of the gravel bed, and there in
cavities or fissures filled with water have become
hatched, the tadpoles undergoing their change, and
feeding on insects brought down by the same means,
worms, &c, and then have subsequently made their
way through crevices in the earth till they gained the
' surface. Now in the cellar referred to, into which
the ground-spring often rose, might not something
similar occur in the case also of the newts ?

To return from this digression. The common or
smooth water-newt is found in all clear ponds and
ditches or drainages ; in the spring the males appear
ornamented with a continuous membranous crest from
the head down the back to the end of the tail. This
crest they lose in the month of June or July, when
both adults and young quit the water for the land,
where they creep about, lodging in damp places,
among the roots of trees, under stones, in crevices of
the ground, &c. Early in the winter the crest of the
male re-appears, and is complete in the beginning of
the spring, at which period he assumes a richer colour-
ing. Aquatic insects and their larvae, worms, and the
tadpoles of the frog, constitute the food of this species,

which in turn falls a prey to fishes and to the great
water-newt. The female deposits her eggs much in
the same manner as already described, generally
within a folded leaf, but not unfrequently at the junc-
tion of the leaf with the stalk. Mr. Bell states he has
sometimes seen the females in the act of placing eggs
not only singly, but by two, three, and four together.

The growth of the youn§ is rapid, and they arrive
nearly at their full size during the course of the first
summer and autumn ; but it would appear that the
transformations are not concluded in tlie same space
of time by all ; for specimens are sometimes found
which have not lost the branchiae, and yet are far
larger than other individuals in which the transforma-
tion is completed. Temperature, food, locality, and
other circumstances may influence the slowness or
rapidity of the change.

In this species, as proved by Spallanzani, not only
the tail, but also portions of the limbs may be removed,
the lost parts being in due time reproduced, bones,
muscles, nerves, blood-vessels, and all : nor this only
once, but several times in succession. So tenacious,
in fact, is the newt, that it has been frozen in a solid
mass of ice, and survived the ordeal if the thawing
process was slow. Yet tenacious of life as this and
the other species certainly are, they die in the most
violent convulsions when sprinkled with salt, and evi-
dently suffer extreme agony. No one, we trust, will
be so inhuman as to try the experiment.

In the common newt the skin is smooth ; on the head
there are two rows of pores ; the crest of th# male is
not only much developed in the spring, but its margin
is crenate, the tips of the crenations being often
tinged with fine red, sometimes violet. The general
colour is yellowish or brownish grey above, bright
orange below, and everywhere marked with dark
spots, some rounded, some of an irregular figure.
r l he female is yellowish-brown, with scattered spots,
and without the rich orange of the under surface.
The upper lip is quite straight. This species is three
and a half or nearly four inches in total length.

Of the two other British species, one is the Straight-
lipped Warty Newt {Triton Bibroniu Bell), and the
Pat mated Newt {Lissotriton palmipes, Bell). The
former (T. Bibronii) differs from the Great Water-
Newt, T. cristatus) in having the upper lip perfectly
straight, and not overhanging the lower at its sides.
The skin also is more rugous and strongly tubercu-
lated, and the general colour is darker. M. Bibron
first detected the existence of this species in England,
and pointed out the differences between it and the
Great Water-Newt, with which it had always been
confounded ; at the same time he regarded it as the
T. marmoratus of Latreille, common on the Continent.
Mr. Bell, however, thinks it distinct, and consequently
new to science. His opinion is founded on a close
comparison of several individuals with specimens of
Latreille's T. marmoratus, sent from Pans by M. Bi-
bron for his examination. Its manners and habits are
precisely those of the great water-newt, and it is
perhaps equally abundant.

The Palmated Water-Newt is also a common spe-
cies, but has been by most naturalists confounded with
the common species, from which it differs in having
the upper lip pendulous at the sides and the five toes
of the hind-feet fringed permanently with a short
membrane. It is also of larger size, and the spots
which cover the body both above and below are more
numerous and smaller, and their outline is more dis-
tinctly defined ; the head also is elegantly marked with
brown longitudinal lines. Like the common species,
however, it is liable to some variation of markings.

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[March 18,

[The Bheels.]

THE TRIBES OF INDIA.

The Bheels are the aboriginal inhabitants of the
western parts of India: at some remote period, be-
yond the reach of historical records, they were driven
from the plains, and now inhabit the wild tract of
country which separates Malwa from Nemaur and
Guzerat. According to the traditions of their con-
querors, the Bheels were the founders of many of the
cities and towns of Central India. The history of
such a people is always impressive, often mournful,
and almost every part of the world has presented in-
stances of similar vicissitudes of the human race pro-
duced by brute force and the power of numbers over
right and justice. Sometimes the extermination of
races has been a just punishment for their vices and
wickedness ; but when they have nobly struggled for
independence, it is impossible to regard their fate with-
out sympathy. Generally a remnant of the vanquished
has found refuge in the fastnesses of the mountains,
where for ages afterwards may be traced a language,
manners, and usages long since obliterated in the more
accessible parts of the country. These characteristics
of national life are preserved amid the seclusion of
mountain districts, and are often found after the plains
have been the scene of many successive changes.
The Bheels are quite a distinct race from any other in
India, though their manners are described as resem-
bling the Puharrees, another or perhaps the same abori-
ginal race, inhabiting the eastern parts of India, and
whose fate has been similar. Bishop Heber describes
them as 4 * less broad-shouldered and with laces less Kel-
tic than the Puharreos," who, he says, very much resem-
ble the Welsh. While the history of the Bheels naturally

excites curiosity, their dispersion over rugged tracts of
country, and their ignorance and prejudices, are ob
staclcs to intercourse ; and little is known concerning
their habits, customs, and forms of worship, except that
they are different from those of other races of India.
The word 4 Bhcel,' which signifies a robber or plunderer,
is applied generally to the people who dwell in the
mountains of Central India and amidst the thickets on
the banks of rivers ; but used comprehensively in this
manner, it includes many who are not real Bheels,
though they have adopted their predatory habits.

Sir John Malcolm divides the Bheels into three
classes : — those who live in villages, the agricultural
Bheels, and the wild Bheels of the hills. «• The first,"
he says, •• consist of a few who, from ancient residence
or chance, have become inhabitants of villages on the
plain (though near the hills), of which they are the
watchmen, and are incorporated as a portion of the
community. The cultivating Bheels are those who
have continued in their peaceable occupations after
their leaders were destroyed or driven by invaders to
become desperate freebooters ; and the wild or moun-
tain Bheel comprises all that part of the tribe, who,
preferring savage freedom and indolence to submission
and industry, have continued to subsist by plunder."
It is interesting to remark that in proportion as sur-
rounding governments were well ordered and strong
enough to protect the country, numbers of the moun-
tain Bheels were accustomed to abandon their preda-
tory habits and join their more peaceful brethren ; but
the weakness and disorganization of the supreme
power was again the signal for them to resume their
wild life, and once more the terror which they inspired
added to the confusion and disorder of society.

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The wild Bheels, according to Sir Jobn Malcolm, arc
a diminutive, ill-fed, and wretched-looking people,
though, he says, they are active and capable ox great
fatigue. They are much addicted to excesses in
spirituous liquors, and frequently assemble for drinking
bouts, which generally end in quarrels. The village
Bheels arc faithful and honest, and those who live by
cultivation are industrious, but rude in their manners,
easily assimilating to their wilder brethren. Heber,
who writes several years later, speaking of the Bheels,
says, ''Thieves and savages as they are, the officers with
whom I conversed thought them on the whole a better
race than their conquerors. Their word is more to be
depended on ; they are of a franker and livelier cha-
racter ; their women are far better treated and enjoy
more influence ; and though the Bheels shed blood
without scruple in cases of deadly feud or in the regu-
lar way in a foray, they arc not vindictive or inhospi-
table under other circumstances." When Sir Jonn
Malcolm exerted himself to reform the habits of the
Bheels, he found his efforts heartily seconded by the
women, whose interests indeed are everywhere im-
proved by whatever diminishes crime, and substitutes
industry "and steady habits for a life of violence and
disorder. The rude religion of the Bheels bears
wme resemblance to that or the Hindoos, but they ex-
cite the horror of the latter bv eating the flesh of the
cow. Their ceremonies are chiefly propitiatory, con-
sisting of offerings to the minor internal deities of the
Hindoo mythology.

Bishop Heber describes a Bheel village. ** The
huts," he says, •• were all of the rudest description ; of
sticks wattled with long grass, and a thatch of the
same, with boughs laid over it to keep it from being
blown away. They were crowded close together, as if
for mutual protection, but with a small thatched in-
closure adjoining for their cattle. Their fields were
also neatly fenced in with boughs, a practice not
common in India but probably necessary here to keep
off the deer and antelopes from their corn." In an-
other part of the country he found some Bheel huts
neater and better constructed than the above. " Each
was built of bamboos wattled so as to resemble a
basket; they had roofs with very projecting eaves,
thatched with grass, and very neatly lined with the
large leaves of the teak-tree. The upper part of each
gable end was open for the smoke to pass out. The
door was wattled and fastened with a bamboo plait
and hinges, exactly like the lid of a basket ; ana the
building was inclosed with a fence of tall bamboo
poles, stuck about an inch apart, connected with cross-
pieces of the same, and with several plants of the ever-
lasting pea trained over it Within this fence was a
small stage elevated on four poles, about seven feet
from the ground, and covered with a low thatched
roof." This stage served either as a sleeping-place for
the sake of coolness or protection from wild beasts ; or,
as it stood in the centre of a patch of Indian corn, it
might be intended as a post to watch the crop from.

Under our Indian administration, the districts in
which the Bheels were accustomed to make their
forays now enjoy a security for life and property which
is gradually becoming more complete. Many of them
are received into our service as soldiers, and those
who have not given up their robber habits have litfle
hope of reviving the former extensive and organized
predatory system. When Bishop Heber travelled in
these parts ot the country in 1825, he was told that
" five years ago a thousand men could hardly have
forced their way through these jungles and their in-
habitants ;'* but then he was safe with sixty. The
Bheels, however, still plundered smaller parties.
Their chiefs have no longer the chance of seizing the

riches of a wealthy province, and by their successes
and genius fixing themselves on thrones. The power
of the Bheel principalities, which was very similar to
that exercised by a Highland chief over the clan, had
been declining before British authority was extended
to Central India, and from its nature it must at all
times have depended upon the successes and talent of
the chief. Sir John Malcolm says : — " The rights of
the different tribes or families, of which the force of
the principal chiefs is formed, are defended by an
hereditary Turvee, or head, to whom they owe obedi-
ence, and who, though he may become tne subject of
a principal chief, maintains an independence propor-
tionate to the strength of his followers." The military
force of a chief would usually consist of several
hundred men, but his ranks would increase in propor-
tion to his success. The revenue consisted for the
most part of plunder, and the government was of the
rudest character, administered, not by the Turvees or
heads of families, but by officers appointed by the
chief. The Dewan kept the few records which were
necessary. A collector gathered the dues from hamlets,
received cattle that were stolen, and distributed them
according to established usage. The Havildar, or
commander of the horse, took charge of cattle at the
time they were plundered, and delivered them to the
collector. The head executioner always attended the
chief. The duty of watching the roads and giving
information respecting unprotected villages and tra-
vellers was an office ot much importance.

GLOVES AND GLOVERS.

[Concluded from page 96.]

Mr. Hall, in his * History of the Glove Trade,' states
that Scotland was the first country in which the
glovers were incorporated. King Robert III. gave
the glovers of Perth a charter so long back as the year
1400 ; the gloves made at that time being chiefly buck
and doe-skin. Scotland has not maintained the posi-
tion which this priority would seem to indicate ; for,
with the exception of a few at Dundee and Montrose,
there are hardly any gloves now made in that country.

In London the glovers were incorporated by Charles
I. in 1638: although they had armorial bearings so
long back as the year 1464. In the time of Charles I.
the glovers of London carried on an important trade ;
and it was partly to remove certain abuses which had
gradually crept into the occupation, that the charter
was given. The preamble, after stating that a peti-
tion had been received from the glovers of the metro-
f)olis, proceeds in the following curious strain : — " We
lave been informed that their families are about four
hundred in number, and upon them depending above
three thousand of our subjects, who are much decayed
and impoverished by reason of the great confluence of
persons of the same art, trade, or mystery into our
said cities of London and Westminster, from all parts
of our kingdom of England and dominion of Wales,
that, for the most part, have scarcely served any time
thereunto, working of gloves in chambers and corners,
and taking apprentices under them, many in number,
as well women as men, that become burdensome to the
parishes wherein they inhabit, and are a disordered
multitude, living without proper government, and
making naughty and deceitful gloves.'" It is then
stated that the reputation of English glovers had been
injured abroad by these interloptrs ; and finally, the
London company is endowed with the enormous power
to "search ior and destroy bad or defective skins
leather, or gloves."

Deer and sheep-skin gloves were the kind principally

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made in London in Charles's time ; but after the in-
troduction of kid gloves into England, the London
makers took up that branch, and have maintained
eminence in it to the present day. It was estimated,
eight or ten years ago, that there were about sixteen
hundred glove-makers, men and women, in London,
who made fifty thousand dozen pairs annually.

The City of Worcester has gained great reputation
for its gloves. This branch of manufacture is known
to have existed there for two hundred and seventy
years ; and the glovers of the city were incorporated
in 1661. Beaver-gloves (made of leather dressed with
oil) used to be made here ; but when these began to
get nearly out of fashion, the manufacturers took up
the manufacture of * tawed ' or alumed leather-gloves
(of which kid is an example) in greater quantities than
before. A few years ago the produce of Worcester
and its vicinity was estimated at so large a quantity as
nearly half a million dozen pairs annually, the value
of which was nearly four hundred thousand pounds.

The glove trade of Worcester, in its general arrange-
ments, is very interesting. The master-manufacturers
were estimated in 1832 at a hundred and twenty ; and
the operatives, including men, women, and children,
at thirty thousand. But it must not be supposed that
this large number inhabit the city of Worcester : there
are, on the contrary, only a small number of glove-
makers within the city ; the bulk of them being scat-
tered throughout the villages lying ten or a dozen
miles on every side of it. The sewing of a pair of
gloves requires so little preparation or arrangement,
that an humble cottager can carry on the occupation in
her own poor dwelling; while her husband, and per-
haps her children, are at work in the fields or the
farm -yard.

If we trace a pair of Worcester kid-gloves through
their progress of manufacture, we shall see the details
of the system followed. In the first place the leather,
whether it be real kid, or * imitation kid ' made of
lamb's-skin, is generally prepared in London, by some
one of the many leather-dressers of Bermondsey ; or,
in some cases, the skins undergo the earlier processes
of dressing in Bermondsey, and are then dyed, softened,
and brougnt to a finished state by the master-manufac-
turer at Worcester. Many of the Bermondsey leather-
dressers have agents in Worcester, to transact the
dealings \vith the master glovers. The dressed skins
are cut out in the workshop of the master, generally
' by means of large shears ; the workman shaping the
various pieces partly by guides and partly by the accu-
racy of his eye and hand. The thumb-pieces, the
pieces to form the sides of the fingers, &c, all of
which have certain technical names, are cut out with
much rapidity, and bound up in small parcels, each
parcel containing the necessary pieces for a dozen pair
of gloves. Some manufacturers employ a cutting-
machine, for giving the shape to each piece of leather
by one descent of a cutting-edge ; but we believe that
the use of such a'inachine is rather an exception than
a rule.

1 f the operative glovers live in or near Worcester,
they go to the house of the manufacturer, receive the
leather in small parcels, and carry it home to work up
into gloves. But if they live ten or twelve miles out,
a curious system is followed. The manufacturer
sends an agent, once a week, or as often as may be
deemed necessary, who opens a temporary warehouse
at a public-house or at some hired room, and there
meets all the humble workpeople who live within a few
miles on every side. Each operative brings to the
agent the gloves which he or she may have made
since the last visit, receives the money-payment for
the labour, and takes home another supply of leather,

to be worked up before the period of the next visit
Precision, certainly, and economy of time result from
this plan. There is one great focus at Worcester ;
around which, at a distance of several miles, are minor
foci. These smaller foci draw towards themselves the
labour of a little circle each, and then yield them up
to the central mart, whence the capital comes which
sets all this productive industry into action.

Following one of the operative glovers to her home,
we shall see that her only working implements, besides
needles and thread or silk, is a clasp or clam which she
holds between the feet and knees, and which acts as a
pincer or vice to retain the glove in a fixed position
during the process of sewing. In some few cases, how-
ever, a little instrument is employed for ensuring regu-
larity in the stitches : this is a kind of brass comb, or
notched plate, whose notches guide the needle. If we
notice a few pairs of gloves, different in kind and
price, we shall see that different appearances are pre-
sented by the threads ; but all are produced by a kind
of stitching or sewing precisely the same as that by
which many other garments are made. Some females
confine their attention to sewing the different pieces
together ; some work the ornamental stitching at the
back of the glove ; while others finish the top.

Under many an humble roof in the outskirts of Wor-
cester may be seen a mother and her daughters thus
employed. It is, under the average state of trade, a
close day's work which will yield a shilling to the
workwoman. The occupation is somewhat analogous
in this respect to the straw-plait working of Bed-
fordshire and Buckinghamshire, which, like it, is car-
ried on in the cottages. It is possible that we might
be able to construct a sort of map of cottage-industry
in England, consisting of certain centres, around
which were grouped the cottagers engaged in some
one occupation. Thus taking Worcester as a centre
for the glove-trade, and Redditch as another for the
needle-trade, we should find these two groups meeting
each other in some intermediate point ; and we should
perhaps find a third group filling or partially filling
the space between those of Worcestershire and those
of the straw-plait counties. ^

There are several towns in England which now
possess, or have at former times possessed, a reputa-
tion for glove-making. Woodstock gloves have been
known ever since the time of Queen Elizabeth, who is
said to have received a pair during one of her 4 pro-
gresses.' They are made of English deer, sheep, and
Iambs' skins, and have been much admired for the
beauty of their workmanship. Hexham gloves were
formerly much worn, especially as gauntlets to suits of
armour ; but in modern times the trade has declined,
probably from the stout and unwieldy nature of the
gloves : the Hexham tan-gloves were made of tanned
sheep-skins. A kind of glove, made of native sheep
and lamb skins, was formerly much esteemed under
the name of York tans, being made to a considerable
extent in that city. The Hereford beaver-gloves were
similarly in repute, and at one time employed three
thousand persons in their manufacture. At Ludlow
and at Kington, in past times, large quantities of
gloves were made, but the number has now greatly
declined. A similar remark may be made in refer-
ence to the Leominster gloves. Yeovil is one of the
most important of our glove towns. The number of
pairs made there has been estimated at three hundred
thousand dozens annually ; and the number of opera-
tive glovers within the district of which Yeovil is the
centre, twenty thousand. The finer kinds of gloves,
as well as military gloves, are made here; formerly
English skins were wholly used, but now Spanish, Ita-
lian, and German lamb-skins aro the principal kinds

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employed. Martock, Milborno Port, Glastonbury,
Wells, Shcpton Mallet, and Torr ington, are all centres
to a limited amount of glove-making.

There are two circumstances which have made a
notable change in the glove-trade of late years, viz.
the introduction of cotton or * Berlin ' gloves, and a
repeal of the prohibition to the importation of French
gloves. With respect to the former cause, an entirely
new branch of manufacture has sprung up, chiefly in
Nottingham and Leicester, where vast quantities of
cotton-gloves are now made. As to the second cause,
the same complaints have been made as in most other
instances of tne repeal of prohibition ; the ruin of the
home-trade has been foretold and the most gloomy
thoughts entertained by many engaged in the leather-
glove manufacture. There is, however, in Mr. MCnl-
loch's * Commercial Dictionary,' a paragraph on this
subject so important, that, though rather long, we will
quote it entire : — *• The importation of leather- gloves
and mitts was formerly prohibited under the severest
penalties. This prohibition had the effect, by prevent-
ing all competition and emulation with the foreigner,
to check improvement, and to render British gloves at
once inferior in quality and high in price. This sys-
tem was, however, permitted to continue till 1825,
when the prohibition was repealed, and gloves allowed
to be imported on payment of duties which, though
high, are not prohibitory. This measure was vehe-
meutly opposed, and many predictions were made of
the total ruin of the manufacture. But in this, as in
every similar instance, experience has shown that the
trade had not been really benefited, but that, on the
contrary, it had been injured by the prohibition. The
wholesome competition to which the manufacturers
now felt themselves, for the first time, exposed, made
them exert all their energies ; and it is admitted on all
hands that there has been a more rapid improvement
in the manufacture during the last half-dozen years
than in the previous half-century. There is still, no
doubt, a great deal of complaining of a decay of trade
among the leather-glove manufacturers; but we are
assured that if there be any real foundation for their
complaints, it is ascribable far more to the growing
use of home-made cotton-gloves than to the importa-
tion of foreign gloves; and had it not been for the
improved fabric and greater cheapness of British
leather-gloves that has grown out of tne new system, it
is abundantly certain that cotton-gloves would have
gained still more rapidly on them. In point of fact,
however, it does not appear that there has been any
falling off in the leather-glove trade. On the contrary,
the fair inference seems to be that it has materially
increased ; at all events there has been a very consi-
derable increase in the number of skins brought from
abroad to be used in the manufacture, and conse-

?[uently in the number of pairs of gloves produced
rom such skins; and there is no reason for thinking
that it is at all different with the other departments."
This was written about five or six years after the
admission of foreign gloves was permitted.

ESSAYS ON THE LIVES OF REMARKABLE
PAINTERS.— No. IV.

Giotto.

[Cuoclnded from pag« 91.]

By the time Giotto had attained his thirtieth year,
he had reached such hitherto unknown excellence in
art, and his celebrity was so universal, that every city
and every petty sovereign in Italy contended for the
honour of his presence and his pencil, and tempted
him with the promise of rich rewards. For the lords

of Arezzo, of Rimini, and Ravenna, and for the Duke
of Milan, he executed many works, now almost wholly

Eerished. Castruccio Castricani, the warlike tyrant of
ucca, also employed him; but how Giotto was in-
duced to listen to tne offers of this enemy of his country
is not explained. Perhaps Castruccio, as the head of
the Ghibelline party, in which Giotto had apparently
enrolled himself, appeared in the light of a friend
rather than an enemy : however this may be, a picture
which Giotto painted for Castruccio, and in which he
introduced the portrait of the tyrant, with a falcon on
his fist, is still preserved in the Lyceum at ^ucca.
For Guido da Polehte, the father of the hapless
Francesco di Rimini, he painted the interior of a
church ; and for Malatesta di Rimini he painted the
portrait of that prince in a bark, with his companions
and a company of mariners ; and among them, Vasari
tells us, was the figure of a sailor, who, turning
round with his hand before his face, is in the act
of spitting in the sea, so life-like as to strike the
beholders with amazement ; this has perished : but the
figure of the thirsty man stooping to drink, in one of
the frescoes at Assisi, still remains, to show the kind of
excellence through which Giotto excited such admira-
tion in his contemporaries — a power of imitation, a
truth in the expression of natural actions and feelings,
to which painting had never yet ascended or de-
scended. This leaning to the actual and the real has
been made a subject of reproach, to which we shall
hereafter refer.

It is said, but this does not rest on very satisfactory
evidence, that Giotto also visited Avignon, in the train
of Pope Clement V.,and painted there the portraits of
Petrarch and Laura.

About the year 1327 King Robert of Naples, the
father of Queen Joanna, wrote to his son the Duke of
Calabria, then at Florence, to send to him, on any
terms, the famous painter Giotto, who accordingly tra-
velled to the court of Naples, stopping on his way in
several cities, where he left specimens of his skill.
He also visited Orvieto for the purpose of viewing the
sculpture with which the brothers Agoslino and
Agnolo were decorating the cathedral, and not only
bestowed on it high commendation, but obtained fur
the artists the praise and patronage they merited.
There is at Gaeta a Crucifixion painted by Giotto, either
on his way to Naples or on his return, in which he in-
troduced himself kneeling in an attitude of deep de-
votion and contrition at tne foot of the cross : this in-
troduction of portraiture into a subject so awful was
another innovation, not so praiseworthy as some of his
alterations. Giotto's feeling for truth and propriety
of expression is particularly remarkable and commend-
able in the alteration of the dreadful, but popular sub-
ject of the crucifix : in the Byzantine school, the sole
aim seems to have been to represent physical agony,
and to render it, by every species of distortion and ex-
aggeration, as terrible and repulsive as possible. Giotto
was the first to soften this awful and painful figure by
an expression of divine resignation and by greater at-
tention to beauty of form. A Crucifixion painted
by him became the model for his scholars, and was
multiplied by imitation through all Italy; so that a
famous painter of crucifixes after the Greek fashion,
Margantone, who had been a friend and contemporary
of Cimabue, confounded by the introduction of this new
method of art, which he partly disdained and partly
despaired to imitate, and old enough to hate innovations
of all kinds, took to his bed " vtfastidito'* (through vexa-
tion), and so died.

But to return to Giotto, whom we left on the
road to Naples. Ring Robert received him with
great honour and rejoicing, and being a monarch of

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singular accomplishments, and fond of the society of
learned and distinguished men, he soon found that
Giotto was not merely a painter, but a man of the
world, a man of various acquirements, whose general
reputation for wit and vivacity was not unmerited.
He would sometimes visit the painter at his work, and,
while watching the rapid progress of his pencil, aroused
himself with the quaint good sense of his discourse.
" If I were you, Giotto," said the king to him one very
hot day, " 1 would leave off work, and rest myself y*
44 And so would I, sire," replied the painter, " if I were
you r The king in a playful mood desired him to
paint his kingdom, on which Giotto immediately
sketched the figure of an ass with a heavy pack -saddle
on his back, smelling with an eager air at another
pack-saddle lying on the ground, on which were a
crown or sceptre. By this emblem the satirical pain-
ter expressed the servility and the fickleness of the
Neapolitans, and the king at once understood the allu-
sion.

While at Naples Giotto painted in the church of the
Ineoronati a series of frescoes representing the Seven
Sacraments according to the Roman ritual. These
still exist, and are amongst the most authentic and
best preserved of his works. The Sacrament of
Marriage contains many female figures, beautifully
designed and grouped, with graceful lieads and flowing
draperies. This picture is traditionally said to repre-
sent the marriage of Joanna of Naples and Louis of
Taranto : but Giotto died in 1 336, and these famous es-
pousals took place in 1347 : a dry date will sometimes
ronfound a very pretty theory. In the Sacrament of
Ordination there is a fjroup of chanting-boys, in
which the various expressions of the act of singing arc
given with that truth of imitation which made Giotto
the wonder of his day. His paintings from the Apoca-
lypse in the Church of Santa Chiara were whitewashed
over, about two centuries ago, by a certain prior of the
convent, because in the opinion of this barbarian they
made the church look dark !

Giotto emitted Naples about the year 1328, and re-
turned to his native city with great increase of riches
and fame. He continued his works with unabated
application, assisted by his pupils, for his school
was now the most famous in Italy. Like most of
the early Italian artists, he was an architect and
sculptor, as well as a painter ; and his last public work
was the famous Campanile or Bell-tower at Florence,
founded in 1334, for which he made all the designs, and
even executed with his own hand the models for the
sculpture on the three lower divisions. According to
Kugler, they form a regular series of subjects illustra-
ting the development of human culture, through re-
ligion and laws, "conceived," says the same authority,
44 with profound wisdom." When the emperor Charles
V. saw this elegant structure he exclaimed, that it
ought to be " kept under glass." In the same alle-
gorical taste Giotto painted many pictures of the Vir-
tues and Vices, ingeniously invented and rendered wi h
great attention to natural and appropriate expression.
In these and similar representations we trace distinctly
the influence of the genius of Dante. A short time
before his death he was invited to Milan by Azzo Vis-
conti. He executed some admirable frescoes In the an-
cient palace of the dukes of Milan ; but these have
perished. Finally, having returned to Florence, he
soon afterwards died, — "yielding up his soul to God in
the year 1336; and having been, says Vasari, " no less
a good Christian than an excellent painter," was
honourably interred in the church of Santa Maria del
Fiore, where master his Cimabue had been laid with
similar honours thirty-five years before. Lorenzo aV
Medici afterwards placed above his tomb his effigy in

marble, from which the portrait at the head of this
essay has been taken. Giotto left four sons and four
daughters, but we do not hear that any of his descen-
dants became distinguished in art or otherwise.

In the following number we shall consider the per-
sonal character and influence of Giotto, both as a man
and an artist, of which many amusing and interesting
traits have been handed down to us.*

^C^s

TYantpareni Depth of the Sea oh the Newfoundland Coasf.— If y
attention was caught by something moving on the bottom twelve
or fifteen feet below me, and I toon found it to be covered with
lobsters. One or two of these, by means of a pointed stick, we
managed to capture. The singular clearness of the water is
most remarkable ; when the surface is still, the echini, shell- fish,
and cretina clinging to the rocks, crabs and lobsters crawling on
the bottom, fish, medusa, and myriads of sea-creatures floating
in its depths, were' as in air itself. . . . . In the passage
between Trinity Island, or Lewis's Island, and the Frying-pan,
the bottom of the sea consisted of huge peaks and mounds of
white granite, rising from dark and deep hollows. The extreme
clearness of the water rendered these cliffs and peaks all visible
as we approached them, though none reached to within three or
four fathoms of the surface ; and the sensation experienced in
sailing over them was most singular, aud to me very uncomfort-
able. I could not look over the boat without extreme giddiness,
as if suspended on some aerial height leaning over a tremendous
gulf. The same sensation was described to me by a gentleman
I afterwards met with, an experienced hunter and sailor, as
assailing him upon his once in smooth water taking a boat within
the space of some sunken rocks off the Wad bam Islands, on
which the water broke in bad weather. These rocks he described
as three peaks arising from an apparently unfathomable depth
and the sensatTou, as his boat gently rose and fell between tbexn,
was so unpleasant, aud indeed awful, that he gladly got away aa
fast as he could.--JuA*f '* Excurtwns.

* In the foregoing sketch some disputed points in the life of
Giotto are for obvious reasons left at rest, and the order of
events has been somewhat changed, in accordance with mora
exact chroniclers than Vasari.

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[March 25,

churchyard, as a citizen does upon the 'change, the
whole parish politics being generally discussed in that
place either alter sermon or before the bell rings.

" My friend Sir Rojger, being a good churchman,
has beautified the inside of his church with several
texts of his own choosing. He has likewise given a
handsome pulpit-cloth, and railed in the communion-
table at his own expense. He has often told me, that
at his coming to his estate he found his parishioners
very irregular : and that in order to make them kneel,
and join in the responses, he gave every one of tbem a
hassock and a Common Prayer-book ; and at the same
time employed an itinerant singing-master, who goes
about the country for that purpose, to instruct them
rightly in the tunes of the Psalms, upon which they
now very much value themselves, and indeed outdo
most of the country churches that I have ever heard.

•' As Sir Roger is landlord to the whole congrega-
tion, he keeps them in very good order, and will suffer
nobody to sleep in it besides himself ; for if by chance
he has been surprised into a short nap at sermon, upon
recovering out of it he stands up and looks about him,
and if he sees anybody else nodding, either wakes
them himself, or sends liis servants to them. Several
other of the old knight's particularities break out upon
these occasions. Sometimes he will be lengthening
out a verse in the singing Psalms, half a minute after
the rest of the congregation have done with it ; some-
times when he is pleased with the matter of his de-
votion, he pronounces Amen three or four times in the
same prayer ; and sometimes stands up when every-
body else is upon their knees, to count the congrega-
tion, or see if any of his tenants are missing.

" I was yesterday very much surprised to hear my
old friend, in the midst of the service, calling out to
one John Matthews to mind what he was about, and
not disturb the congregation. This John Matthews it
sceins is remarkable for being an idle fellow, and at
that time was kicking his heels for his diversion. This
authority of the knight, though exerted in that odd
manner which accompanies him in all the circum-
stances of life, has a very good effect upon the parish,
who are not polite enough to see anything ridiculous
in his behaviour ; besides that the general good sense
and worthiness of his character make his friends ob-
serve these little singularities as foils that rather set off
than blemish his good qualities.

" As soon as the sermon is finished, nobody presumes
to stir till Sir Roger is gone out of the church. The
knight walks down from his seat in the chancel be-
tween a double row of his tenants, that stand bowing
to him on each side ; and every now and then inquires
how such a one's wife, or mother, or son, or father do,
whom he does not see at church ; which is understood
as a secret reprimand to the person that is absent

(< The chaplain has often told me, that upon a catechis-
ing day, when Sir Roger has been pleased with a boy
that answers well, he has ordered a Bible to be given
to him next day for his encouragement, and sometimes
accompanies it with a flitch of bacon to his mother.
Sir Roger has likewise added five pounds a year to the
clerk's place ; and, that he may encourage the young
fellows to make themselves perfect in the church ser-
vice, has promised upon the death of the present in-
cumbent, who is very old, to bestow it according to
merit ..

" The fair understanding between Sir Roger and his
chaplain, and their mutual concurrence in doing good,
is the more remarkable, because the very next village
is famous for the differences and contentions that arise
between the parson and the 'squire, who live in a per-
petual state of war. The parson is always preaching
at the 'squire, and the 'sou ire, to be revenged on the
parson* never comes to church. The 'squire has made

all his tenants atheists and tithe-etealers, while the
parson instructs them every Sunday in the dignity of
his order, and insinuates to them, in almost every ser-
mon, that he is a better man than his patron. In
short, matters are come to such an extremity, that the
'squire has not said his prayers either in public or
private this half-year ; and the parson threatens him,
if he does not mend his manners, to pray for him in
the face of the whole congregation.

" Feuds of this nature, though too frequent in the
country, are very fatal to the ordinary people ; who
are so used to be dazzled with riches, that they pay as
much deference to the understanding of a man of an
estate as of a man of learning*; and are very hardly
brought to regard any truth, now important soever ft
may be, that is preached to them, when they know
there are several men of five hundred a-year who do
not believe it."

The ouiet humour of this pleasant description tar-
nishes in itself a tolerable example of the state of
opinion in the reign of Queen Anne— our Augustan
age, as it has often been called. It shows the cold and
worldly aspect which the most solemn institutions
presented to the eye of the conventional moralist
There is something much higher in the association of
Christians in public worship than even the good -of
meeting together with "best faces and cleanliest
habits." Sunday is to be observed for something
better than " clearing away the rust of the week," and
"putting both sexes upon appearing in their most
agreeable forms." But for too long a period this has
been very much the orthodox notion of Sunday and
Sunday duties ; and the real purpose of public wor-
ship, that of calling forth the spiritual and unworldly
tendencies of our nature, to the exclusion of the salta-
tion and vanity of every-day life, is only beginning yet
to be generally felt in town or village. We- lost for
two or three centuries the zealous spirit which made
the cathedral and the church a refuge from the hard
and irritating cares which belong to a life of struggle
and vexation ; which there lifted us up to a cahn and
earnest reliance on the protection of the great Father
of all ; which made all men equal in their capacity for
partaking of this elevation of spirit ; which for a while
excluded the distinctions that belong to transitory
things alone. The solemn responses, the soul-littering
chants, the assembling together in temples venerable
for their antiquity and impressive in their beauty, gave
a loftier tone to the mind of the most uninformed Chan
belongs to the discussion of parish politics " after ser-
mon or before the bell rings. A reform of somewhat
too sweeping character changed the feelings of the
people. Religion came either to be looked at as a
severe thing or as a formal thing ; and then followed
what Addison has painted too truly in the conclusion
of his paper, " the differences and contentions between
the parson and the 'squire." In this respect we may
earnestly hope that the description of the Essayist is
wholly obsolete.

PROGRESSES OF QUEEN ELIZABETH.
No. III. i

THS QUBKN AT CAMBRIDGE.

Iif 1563 there appears to have been no progress. Loo-
don was suffering through a dearth, a scarcity *f
money, and from the prevalence of the pcstilfocp,
which had been introduced by the troops who hadJMzen
unsuccessfully defending H&vre under the EarLof
Warwick. Of this disorder more than 20,90* of &e
citizens died ; and, according to Holinahed, Mm QN£&i
ordered that " the new mayor elected should keep no
feast at Guildhall, for doubt that through bringing toge*
ther such a multitude the infection might fc*c/qate»r

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107

In 1564, on tie 27th of July, the Queen waa Again
on her Progresses, and was at the Lord Treasurer
Cecil's house at Theobalds, afterwards at her own
house at Enfield, and on the 5th of August she reached
Cambridge, where extensive preparations had been
made Corner reception. The students had been directed
to " put themselves in all readiness to pleasure her
Majesty, and to welcome her with all manner of scho-
lar tical exercises, viz., with sermons, both in English
and Latin ; , disputations in all kinds of faculties, and
playing of comedies and tragedies, orations and verses,

both in Latin and Greek, to be made and set up

in the way that her Majesty should go or ride : " pro-
vision of beer, ale. and wine was sent to the King's
College," where she was to lodge ; and " the Vice-
Chancellor and the Mayor took order for the well-
paving of all the town, and that every inhabitant should
provide sufficient sand to cover the streets at the
coming of the Queen's Majesty."
1 Sir William Cecil, who was Chancellor of the Uni-
versity, and Lord Robert Dudley (afterwards Earl of
Leicester), the Lord High Steward, with a numerous
train, arrived on the previous day. to her Majesty, to
assist in the preparations; they were received with
much ceremony, and to each of them was presented,
as also to the Duke t>f Norfolk, the steward of- the
.town, "two pair of gloves, a march-pain,* and two
sugar-loaves ;" while the Earl of Suffolk and the rest
of the nobility had gloves, but no march-pain or sugar-
toaves."

On the 5th the whole University met the Queen at
the corner of the Queen's College and Martin Gill's
house, ♦« the whole lane between the Kind's College
and the Queen's College was strewed with rushes,
and flags hanging in divers places, with coverlets, and
boughs, and many verses fixed upon the wall," the
•scholars crying, as commanded, " Vivat Regina,"
lowty kneeling. The corporation of the town had met
:her Majesty a little above Newnham, and delivered to
her the mace, with " a fair standing cup. which cost 19/.,
and twenty old angels in it," which she received, re-
turning the mace to the mayor, and giving the cup
wiih the angels to her footman. She was on horseback,
dressed u in a gown of black velvet pinked; a caul
upon her head, set with pearls and precious stones ;
a hat that was spangled with gold, and a bush of
feathers/' The orator of the University then made his
speech in Latin. •• First he praised and commended
many singular virtues set and planted in her Majesty,
which her Highness not acknowledging of, she shaked
her head, bit her lips and her fingers; and sometimes
broke forth into passion, and these words : * Non est
Veritas, et utinam ;'" but on his praising virginity, she
replied, " God's blessing of thine heart, there con-
tinue." At the conclusion, she commended the speech,
adding, "That she would answer him again in Latin,
but for fear she should speak false Latin, and then they
would laugh at her.'' She then dismounted, and was
conducted under a canopy into King's College Chapel,
where prayers were said, but the Queen declining to
join in the service, prayed privately ; she greatly praised
the beauty of the chapel as " above all other within her
reahn."t On her leaving the chapel for her lodgings
in King's College, there were presented to her, in the
name of the University, "four pair of Cambridge
'double gloves, edged and trimmed with two laces of
Une gold, and six boxes of fine comfits and other con-
ncerts." On the following day, which was Sunday, the
Queen attended service m the chapel in the morning,
praising the Latin sermon as the first she had ever
Heard in that tongue, and never hoped to hear a better.
r ' r[ *- A tort at confection or fweetmeat, made of alra#ndi, augar,
in)rf other ingredients.

t Tor a view of the chapel, see Ko. 993.

From hence she was conducted back under a canopy
borne by four doctors, " which the footmen as tneir
fee claimed, and it was redeemed for 3/. 6*. 8rf." On
this day the chancellor and vice-chancellor entertained
tlie University at dinner, to which the Queen sent five
bucks. She attended even-song, " which ended, she
departed back by the same way to the play • Aulularia
Plauti ;' for the hearing and playing whereof was
made by her Highness' surveyor, and at her own cost,
in the body of the King's College Church, a great
stage, containing the breadth of the church from the
one side to the other, that the chapels might serve for
houses. In the length it ran two of the lower chapels
full, with the pillars on a side." Her Majesty sat on
the south side under a cloth of state, the rood-loft was
made into a stage for ladies and gentlemen to stand in,
and the tables beneath it were " enlarged and railed
in for the choice officers of the court. A multitude of
the guard stood upon the ground by the stage-side,
having every man in his hand a torch-staff for the
lights of the play (for no other lights were occupied) ;
and would not suffer any to stand upon the stage, save
a very few upon the north side." With this curious
account of the formation and location of the stage, we
have little or nothing of the play. " The Queen took
her seat, and heard the play fully," is all that is told
us, and that about twelve o'clock she departed to her

On the Monday she attended disputations in philo-
sophy and physic in St. Mary's Church, where a great
stage was provided for the purpose, from one o'clock
in the afternoon till seven, declaring herself well en-
tertained, but detecting faults in the dresses of some
of the dignitaries, and noting that some Masters were
M but Masters, because their habits and hoods were
torn and too much soiled/' At nine she attended
the performance of * Dido,' a tragedy, " in hexamctic
verse," in King's College Chapel.

On Tuesday there was nothing public, the Queen
holding a privy council in the south vestry ; but in the
evening she again visited the theatre in King's College
Chapel to witness the performance of a play m English
called * Ezekias.' This play was the production of Dr.
Nicholas Udall, Master of Eton College, the author of
• Ralph Royster Doyster,' the earliest existing English
comedy.

On Wednesday, at six in the morning, M riding in state
royali, all the lords and gentlemen riding before her
Grace, and all the ladies following on horseback," the
Queen visited Clare Hall, King's College, Trinity
Hall, Gonvill and Caius, Trinity, St. John's, Christ's,
and Benet Colleges, Pembroke Hall, Peter House,
Queen's College, and Katherine Hall, being ad-
dressed at most ot them with an oration ; those at
Trinity and Christ's College being in Greek, to
the latter of which she replied in the same lan-
guage; talking much with students in Latin during
her progress, and dismissing them on her return in
that language. At three she attended the disputations
in divinity, which were stayed at seven o'clock, before
they were ended ;" and •* the night coming on, clean
took away the disputation of the lawyers." At the
end, the lords, especially the Duke or Norfolk, the
Steward of the Town, and Lord Robert Dudley, the
High Steward of the University, "kneeling down,
humbly desired her Majesty to speak something to the
University, and in Latin : this, after some affected re-
luctance, she did at considerable length, and of which
we give the translation of the following complimentary
conclusion : — " But now you see the difference between
true learning and an education not well retained. Of
the one of which you yourselves are all more than suf-
ficient evidence ; and of the other, I, too inconsiderately
indeed, have made vou all witnesses. It is time then

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[March 25,

that your ears, which hare been to Ions detained by
this barbarous sort of an oration, should now be re-
leased from the pain of it." But the auditors were
all " marvellously astonied," and burst forth in open
voice " Vivat Regina !" " And so her Majesty cheer-
fully departed to her lodging ;" declining to be present
at the performance of the • Ajax Flagellifer' of Sopho-
cles, being fatigued with visiting the colleges, attending
the disputations, " and over- watched with former plays,
as it was very late nightly before she came to them, as
also departed from them ; and beside intending to leave
Cambridge early in the morning."

There appears to be little at all worthy of remark in
the reception of the Queen at Cambridge. A book
was prepared for her Majesty, previous to her coming,
*' containing all their verses, both of Greek and Latin,
Hebrew, Chaldee, and English, bound in a parchment
covering, gilt with flowers of gold at the four corners,
knit with green ribband string ;" but nothing of them
has been preserved. Of the members of the University,
the only one who appears to have been distinguished
by her Majesty, was Thomas Preston, " who acted so
admirably well in the tragedy of • Dido,' and did so
gracefully dispute before her, that she gave him 20/.
per annum for his so doing." A most notable instance
of liberality in the Queen, who was generally sparing
in such rewards. Preston's antagonist in these dispu-
tations was Thomas Cartwright ; and Fuller, in his
• History of Cambridge/ remarks, " Cartwright had
dealt most with the Muses ; Preston with the Graces.
Cartwright disputed like a great, Preston like a gentle,
scholar. Ana the Queen, upon parity of defects,

always preferred properness of person." Preston, who
with her host Dr. Baker, the Provost of Kings Col-
lege, and others, met her at nine o'clock on Thursday
morning on her departure, made a farewell oration,
with which she was so well pleased, that she gave him
her hand to kiss, and " openly called him her scholar."

She proceeded from Cambridge to the Bishop of
Ely's at Stanton, and from thence to Sir Henry Crom-
well's at Hinchinbrooke Priory.

In 1565 she visited the newly-made Earl of Leicester
at Kenilworth, passing through Coventry, where the
corporation received her magnificently, the recorder,
John Throgmorton, whom she knighted, making her a
complimentary oration, and presented her in the name
of the town with a purse, "supposed to be worth twenty
marks, and in it about 100/. in gold angels, which her
Grace accepting, was pleased to say to her lords, it
was a good gift, 100/. in gold ; 4 1 have but few such
gifts.' To which the mayor answered boldly, • If it
please your Grace, there is a great deal more in it.*
* What is that V said she. • It is/ said he, • the hearts of
all your loving subjects.' •We thank you, Mr. Mayor/
said she : • it is a great deal more indeed.' "' It was in a
great measure by this happy public affability that
Elizabeth acquired and retained to such an extent as
she did the personal affections of her people.

The visits to Kenilworth were repeated in 1568 and
1575. The last was distinguished by its unbounded
magnificence, but as Kenilworth has been already de-
scribed in Is/os. 59, 213, and G64, where we have given
views of the past and present state of the castle, we
shall not have occasion to go over the ground again.

[Koo-choo-foo.}

FOO-CHOO-FOO.

Ning-po, of which we have given an account in No.
$39, is the next of the free ports south of Shang-hae :
to this succeeds Foo-choo-foo, the capital and principal
port of the province of Fo-kien, where chiefly the

black tea is produced which is imported into this
country, and a considerable quantity of tobacco is also
grown.

Foo-chGo-foo lies on the north-east coast, in the Fo-
kien Channel, in about 26° N. lat. and 119° E. long.,
on the banks of the Min-ho, which empties itself into

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the Bay of Ho-sien, and about thirty miles from the
river's mouth called Woo-foo-min. Fort Minga, which
defends the passage of the Min, is situated about
twelve miles from the river's mouth, and is the only
servicable fortress, although numerous others in a dis-
mantled state dot the banks on each side in going up,
and add to its picturesque beauty. The war-junks go
no higher than Mingan.

On leaving Mingan the channel narrows to much
less than half a mile broad, and, a few miles higher
up, divides into two branches, the northern one of
which leads to the city : the banks of the river are
dotted with the richest verdure, and in some places the
bold appearance of the mountains, rising abruptly to
a height of several thousand feet, is very remarkable :
they are cultivated to the very ridges with grain, rice,
and paddy, adding to the beauty of the scenery, which
is further heightened by bold bluff points jutting ab-
ruptly into the river.

On reaching one of these points, which terminates
the circuitous and serpentine direction of the branch
of the river from Fort Minga, the town of Foo-choo-foo
breaks upon the view in ail its splendour, the bridge
of thirty-six arches (and not thirty-three, as erroneously
stated by some) stretching across the river, the banks
on both sides dotted here and there with picturesque
pagodas and the country-seats of the mandarins of rank,
and luxuriating in all the richness of tropical vegeta-
tion ; the stately palm-tree, cocoa and betel-nut, com-
bined with the plantain and banana, being seen here
in all their native beauty. The effect is greatly height-
ened by the numerous and various kinds of picturesque
boats which dot the river, from the humble sampan
to the unwieldy junk ; whilst close to the town ap-
pears a forest of masts belonging to different coasting
craft : the river above bridge winds away into serpen-
tine obscurity, and the background is terminated by
lofty mountains fading away into the blue distance.

The town is built on both sides the river, and con-
sists of the usual low houses of Chinese architecture
and narrow streets, which, however, are necessary to
guard against the powerful rays of the sun.

The bridge, which is built on diamond-shaped piles
of granite, is a clumsy-looking affair upon close in-
spection, although at a distance it assumes so pictu-
resque an appearance : its length is about four hundred
yards, and breadth twelve to thirteen : there were for-
merly temporary shops constructed upon it, but they
are now nearly all removed.

The anchorage at Foo-choo-foo is good, and of course,
from its inland situation, perfectly secure : there is
always from four to five fathoms water, the current is
very rapid, the flood- tide scarcely perceptible.

The inhabitants appear courteous and mild Jin their
manners, but intercourse with them was checked by
the interference of the mandarins: they appeared a
much superior race of people from those we met at
Canton, and, as at Amoy, are hardy and industrious.

A great trade is carried on with the neighbouring

Province of Che-kiang in wood, timber, and tobacco ;
ut a number of junks from Foo-choo-foo find their
way to Manilla, Singapore, and other islands in the
Eastern Archipelago, touching generally in the first
instance at Amoy, from whence the best sea-going
Fokien sailors are selected to man the sea-junks.
Dried fruits, amongst others the lee-chee, are likewise
largely exported.

The importance of Foo-choo-foo to British enterprise
must be extremely great, as vessels of a large burthen
can lay within seven or eight miles of the city, whence
the tea can be loaded at once from the large chop-boats
of the country, which, by means of the Mm and its
branches, have an easy water-communication with the
tea-farms of the interior. Mr. Davis, in his * Sketches

of China,' observes in relation to its commercial im-
portance : — " By the restrictions which have confined
the tea-trade to Canton we have been obliged to pay
for the transport of the black teas over an immense
distance, in wnich lofty mountains are to be crossed,
and shallow rivers navigated with great difficulty, in-
volving the additional charge of about 25*. in every
pecul weight (133 lbs.), or about 200,000/. on the annual
Supply. Mr. Ball, formerly inspector of teas to the
Company at Canton, first drew attention to this subject
many years ago, and his calculations seem to have been
verified since. Should we, therefore, ever be in a situ-
ation to choose the most advantageous position for the
tea-trade, there seems to be no doubt of Foo-choo-foo
being the port selected. But it is not on account of
teas only that the city in question has been singled out
as the most favourable for the British trade : some
calculations and estimates exist to show that for our
woollen and other manufactures Foo-choo-foo must
be infinitely superior to Canton, as being much nearer
to the places of consumption. In this single view of
the question, however, and apart from the main article
of teas, it is most probable that Shang-hae is superior
to Foo-choo-foo."

The climate of Foo-choo-foo is on the whole healthy,
and would be more so but for the filthy state of the
streets in the city and suburbs, where offal of all kinds
is thrown indiscriminately about, producing an odour
very offensive to the senses. The mountains in the
vicinity likewise tend to its salubrity by rarefying the
air : in winter the cold is felt severely ; as is also the
heat in summer, when the exhalations from the rice
and paddy grounds produce frequent cases of fever
and ague.

ECONOMICAL USES OF THE BIRCH-TREE.

[Continued from page 92.]

In the last article on this subject we stated that the sap
or juice of the birch is, like almost every other part,
applied to useful porposes. This sap is made into
beer, wine, and vinegar, besides yielding sugar and
spirit. The Russians use the syrup of the sap, without
crystallization, as a substitute for sugar. During the
siege of Hamburg by the Russians m 1814, almost all
the birch-trees in the neighbourhood were destroyed
by some of the semi-barbarous soldiers of the Russian
army, for the sake of the sap. Sugar maybe procured
from the sap by boiling and evaporation. Beer is pro-
duced by fermenting the sap with yest, hot water,
and hops, in the manner of English brewing.

Wine is made from the birch-sap in the following
manner : — The sap is first obtained by boring a shallow
hole in each tree, near the ground, and on the south
side of the trunk ; each tree being, in some countries,
bored with several holes, instead of one. Each hole
has a kind of fosset fixed to it, formed either of a large
quill or of a piece of elder-wood deprived of its pith,
the outer end of the tube or fosset being placed in a
vessel or large bladder to receive the sap. In some
places the collectors of the sap cut off the extremity
of each branch, tying a vessel or bladder to the end of
the wounded part. When a sufficient quantity of
sap has been collected, the hole in the tree is stopped
with a wooden peg, or the end of the wounded branch
is covered with pitch. This operation is always per-
formed in spring, and most sap is said to be procured
after a very severe winter. As the sap soon spoils by
being kept, several trees are opened at the same time,
in order to collect a sufficient quantity at once, which
is effected usually about the hour of noon. When the
wine is to be made, the sap is boiled with moist sugar
or honey, in the proportion of four pounds of sugar to
a gallon of sap. While boiling, the scum is taken off

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as fast as it rises, till the liquor is quite clear. It is
then worked with yest in the usual way. The juice
and rind of a lemon and of a Seville orange added to
every gallon of clear liquor greatly improves the
flavour. Twigs of sweet-brier are sometimes put into
the cask when the wine is tunned, to give it a fra-
grance, an object which used in former times to be
effected by using cinnamon and other spices. Wine
made in this way, being kept three months before
bottling, and twelve months before being used, is both
agreeable and wholesome, and effervesces something
like champagne.

A useful oil is also obtained from the birch-tree by a
kind of distillation effected in the following manner : —
An excavation is first made in the ground ten or twelve
feet deep, and in the form of an inverted cone, lined
on the inside with clay. Birch-bark (from which the
product is obtained) being collected and placed in
this rude kind of kiln, is covered with turf and then
ignited. During the smothered combustion of the
bark, oil exudes from it, and passes through a hole
made in the bottom of the kiln, into a vessel placed to
receive it, from which it is transferred to casks for
exportation. The liquor produced consists of oil and
pyroligneous acid, and is used for tanning hides, to
which it gives the peculiar odour recognised in
' Russia leather.* The oil when purified is quite
clear, and is used in medicine, both internally and
externally ; and the pyroligneous tar-like liquid which
is separated from it is used for many of the same pur-
poses as tar.

AH the details hitherto given relate to the common
or white birch, incontestably the most valuable of all
the species. The species called in England the paper
birch, in Paris the black birch, and in America the
canoe birch, is a valuable American tree, whose cha-
racteristic value is expressed by the last of these three
appellations, since its bark is extensively employed in
the construction of canoes. The canoe birch flourishes

Erinci pally in the forests of Lower Canada, New
irunswick, and the northern portion of the United
States. It attains its largest size in the declivity of
hills and in the bottom of fertile valleys; being under
such circumstances frequently found with a height of
seventy or eighty feet and a diameter of three feet. Its
branches are slender, flexible, and covered with a
shining brown bark, dotted with white.

The heart or perfect wood of this tree, when first laid
open, is of a reddish hue, and the sap is perfectly
white. The wood has a fine glossy grain, with a con-
siderable share of strength. In the district of Maine
tables are frequently made of it, and stained in imita-
tion of mahogany. A section of the trunk of this tree,
a foot or two in length, immediately below the first
ramification, often exhibits very elegant undulations
of the fibre, resembling bunches of feathers or sheaves
of corn : such pieces arc divided into thin veneers for
inlaying mahogany; aud in Boston and the towns
situated farther north, they are generally employed by
cabinet-makers to embellish their work. The wood
affords excellent fuel, and is exported in great quan-
tities from Maine to Boston.

The bark of the canoe birch, in trees not exceeding
eight inches in diameter, is of a brilliant white, and is
almost indestructible. Trees long since prostrated by
time or storms are often met with in the forests, whose
trunks appear sound externally, while the bark con-
tains only a friable substance like vegetable mould.
In Canada and the Northern United States the country-
people place large pieces of the bark immediately
below the shingles of the roofs of houses, to form a
more impenetrable covering. Baskets, boxes, and
portfolios are made of it, sometimes embroidered with
silk of different colours. Divided into very thin sheets,

it forma a substitute for paper ; and, placed between
the soles of the shoes and in the crown of the hat, it is
a ' waterproof material, in the best sense of the tern;

It is, however, in the construction of canoes that the
bark of this species of birch is most valuably employed
an application for which it is superior to every other
kind of bark. To procure proper pieces, the largest
and smoothest trunks are selected. In the spring o|
the year two circular incisions are made, several feel
apart, and two longitudinal ones on opposite sides of
the tree ; after which, by introducing a wooden wedge*
the bark is easily detached. These sheets or plates of
bark are usually ten or twelve feet Ions, by two and *
half or three feet in width. To form the canoe, these
pieces are stitched together by means of fibrous roots
of the white spruce, about the size of a quill, which
are deprived of the bark, split, and softened in water*
The seams are coated with resin. In such canoes as
these the Canadian 'voyageurs* have been wont to
ascend the Ottawa ana other rivers, on their fur-
buying expeditions ; the canoes being so very light as
to be easily carried each on the shoulders of one mas*.
A canoe fitted to convey four passengers will onto weigh
forty or fiftv pounds ; but some of them are calculated
to contain fifteen persons. It was to such canoes as
these that Sir Alexander Mackenzie alluded when;
speaking of the equipment of a fleet of canoes at
Montreal preparatory to a departure up the Ottawa to
the Lakes, he said >- - " An European, on seeing one of
these slender vessels thus laden, heaped up, and sunk
with her gunwale within six inches of the water, would
think his fate inevitable in such a boat, when he re-
flected on the nature of the voyage ; but the Canadiansi
are so expert, that few accidents happen. "

In the Settlements of the Hudson's Bay Company*
tents are made of the bark of the canoe birch, which
for that purpose is cut into pieces twelve feet long by
four feet wide. These are sewed together by threads
made of the white-spruce rootlets; and so rapidly is s
tent put up, that a circular one, twenty feet in diame-
ter by ten feet high, requires not above half an hour in
pitching. These are called ' rind-ten ts/ and their
utility is acknowledged by all travellers and hunters
in those regions. They are used throughout the year ;
but during the hot months of June, July, and August
they are found particularly accetpable.

There are other species of birch more or less valur*
able in the arts. The Tall birch, an American species;
is a beautiful tree, often rising to a height of seventy
or eighty feet, and having the trunk uniform, straight,
and destitute of leaves for a height of thirty or forty
feet. It is particularly remarkable for the colour and
arrangement of its epidermis, which is of a brilliant
golden yellow, and frequently divides itself into very
fine strips, rolled backwards at the ends and attached
in the middle. The leaves, the bark, and the youns?
shoots have all an agreeable taste and smell. It
abounds in the forests of New Brunswick, Nova
Scotia, and Maine ; and is met with more sparingly
in New Jersey and Pennsylvania, where it is found m
moist and shady situations. The wood is net equal to
that of some other kinds of birch, but is at the same
time strong, and, when well polished, fitted to snake
handsome furniture. In Nova Scotia, and in the dis*
trict of Maine, it is found by experience to be every
way proper for that part of the frame-work of vessels
whicn always remains in the water. In Maine it is
employed for the yokes of cattle and for the frames of
sledges ; and in Nova Scotia the young saplings are
almost exclusively employed for making the hoops of
casks. Boards of this tree were formerly imported
into Ireland and Scotland in large quantities, arid
were much in use in joinery. The wood is excellent
for fuel, and the bark is largely employed by tanners.

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' The wood of the Pliant birch or Cherry Wrch is
deemed better than that of any other American species.
This tree, in favourable situations, exceeds seventy feet
in height, with a diameter of nearly three feet. The
outer bark, in old trees, detaches itself transversely at
intervals, in hard plates or sheets six or eight inches
broad ; but in trees with trunks not more than eight
inches in diameter, the bark is smooth, greyish, and per-
fectly similar in its colour and organization to that of
ibe cberrv-tree : hence one of its names. In the neigh-
bourhood of New York this is one of the first trees to
renew its leaves ; these, during a fortnight after their
appearance, are covered with a thick silvery down,
Which afterwards disappears. When bruised the
leaves diffuse a very sweet odour ; and as they retain
this property when dry if carefully preserved, they
make an agreeable substitute for tea, with the aid of
milk and sugar. The wood, when freshly cut, is of a
rosy fcue, which deepens by exposure to the light. Its
grain is fine and close: it possesses a considerable
degree of strength, and takes a brilliant polish. In
Massachusetts, Connecticut, and New York the wood
of this birch is next in esteem to that of the wild cherry.
Tables, bedsteads, arm-chairs, sofas, coach-panels,
shoe-lasts, and a great many other articles are made of
it. Hunter, in his notes to Evelyn's ' Sylva,' says that
the sap of this tree is used by the inhabitants of Kamts-
chatka without previous fermentation; and that the
natives strip off the bark when in a $reen state, cut it
into lonj* narrow strips like vermicelli, and, after drying
it, stew it with their caviare.

The Dwarf birch, a native of Lapland, Sweden,
Russia, Scotland, Canada, and all the colder regions of
Europe and America, is a very useful tree to the Lap-
landers. Its branches furnish them with their beds
and their chief fuel ; its leaves yield a yellow dye,
better than that obtained from the common birch ; its
seeds afford nourishment to the ptarmigan, or white
partridge, which supplies a considerable portion of the
Laplanders* food, ana also forms an important article
of commerce ; and, for their medicine, it produces a
peculiar kind of fungus, from which the mora or
amadou is prepared, and which the Laplanders consi-
der an efficacious remedy in all painful diseases.

The Black birch, like many others which we have
noticed, is an American species, 'growing abundantly
in Maryland, Virginia, Carolina, and Georgia. It
glows, with the greatest luxuriance, on the sides of
limpid streams which have a gravelly bed, and the
banks of which are not marshy. The wood of this
species is compact, and very nearly white; and the
colour of the sap-wood and the heart- wood is very
nearly the same. It is longitudinally marked by red
veins, which intersect each other in different directions.
The negroes make bowls and trays of it. The hoops
for rice-casks are made of its youn$ shoots, and of
branches not exceeding an inch in diameter ; and its
sprav is much used for making brooms.

We may terminate this brief notice by remarking
that the use of the common birch-tree, in artificial
plantations in Britain, is chiefly as coppice- wood ; it
is cut, every five or b*ix years, for brooms, hoops, wat-
tled-rods, crate-rods, &c. ; every ten or twelve years,
for faggot-wood, poles, fencing, and bark for tanners,
the value of which is about half that of oak-bark ; and
every fifteen or twenty years, for herring-casks, &c.

FLOATING AND FLYING BRIDGES.

The military operations by which a body of troops is
conveyed across a river supply the most instructive
examples, of the steps from whence have resulted the
masterly and substantial bridges of modern times.
The expedients which an armv would adopt in a strange

country are in some measure analogous to those which
a rude nation would find most available, since the
means at the disposal of both are very limited.

A canoe or raft, urped across the stream by oars, is
obviously the most primitive mode of transit, and calls
for very little notice here, a paper on the «• Boats of
Rude Nations " having been given in our last volume.
But the operations of our military commanders have
frequently brought to light the means of constructing
boats at a few hours* notice, from materials found near
the Btrcam itself. The Duke of Wellington (then
Colonel Wellesley), in his Indian campaign of 1800,
having occasion to cross a river which by floods had
become too deep to be fordable, caused a number of
basket-boats to be constructed, of materials easily pro-
curable: the boats were soon made, the army crossed
the stream, and the commander fully succeeded in his
object. Such basket-boats are much used in India,
and are made as follows: — a number of pieces of split
bamboo are laid on the ground, crossing each other
near their centres, and fastened together with thongs.
The ends of the bamboos are then raised to a sufficient
height, fixed by stakes at due distances from each
other, and then bound together by slips of bamboo, in-
troduced alternately over and under the ribs, beginning
from the bottom and working upwards, till the skeleton
is completed. The ends of the ribs, above the intended
height or depth of the basket, are then cut off, and the
stakes removed. The frame is next turned over, and
covered with hides (those of the animals, for instance,
which may have been killed for food), the hide being
secured with leather thongs. Such basket-boats are
frequently made in India with a length of fifteen feet
and a breadth of three ; and such an one is capable of
carrying thirty men, or a gun-carriage, or bullocks or
horses, whose heads are fastened to the stern of the
boat, and who are made to swim across.

The general of an army is sometimes constrained to
the adoption of extraordinary expedients in crossing a
river, where no boats are to be found, and time and
circumstances prevent him from making any. The
roost simple of all bridges would be a plank reaching
from one bank to the other ; but when the width of
the stream renders this impossible, and several planks
in length are necessary, the question arises how these
planks are to be supported above the surface of the
water. It is for the purpose of supplying these sup-
ports that a regular army is provided with pontoons,
which will be better understood if we speak first of
more rude and simple arrangements. Sir Howard
Douglas says, that when he was with the Peninsular
army, he was prepared to adopt a plan of crossing
rivers by forming a bridge in which the planks were
supported by inflated shn bags, whose buoyancy kept
up the superstructure. In Spain, bags made of animal
skins are commonly used for containing wine ; and such
bags, inflated with air, have been found to possess the
requisite buoyancy. A light frame-work of planks is
formed, and placed on a row of such bags, the sides
of the frame descending at the edge to enclose the
bags; and unless the latter become perforated by
musket-shots, they still retain their buoyancy for a
sufficient length of time to allow of a passage across
the stream. Sir Howard Douglas states that where
an army is provided with fresh meat, the hides of the
slaughtered animals may be used for this purpose ;
and he details an experiment made on the buoyancy
of an ox-hide weighing nearly fifty pounds. ' It was
trimmed into a circular form, about five feet and a half
in diameter, drawn together at the edge, and firmly
bound round a tube made of alder-wood, having the
pith removed, and a piece of leather nailed upon the
inner end, as a valve to prevent the air from escaping.
The vessel was then inflated by a common band*»bel*

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lows, and acquired a buoyancy which enabled it to
Dear, in the water, a weight of three hundred pounds
for five hours, and even to bear half that weight for
a period of twenty-four hours, although the hide was
not covered with any composition to close the pores.

It has been proposed in France to employ, as a sup-
port for the framework of a temporary bridge, canvas
bags coated with a solution of India-rubber. The baft
used experimentally were of an elliptical shape, six
feet long, two feet wide in the centre, and two feet
deep. The upper surface was fastened to a frame
rather longer and wider than the bag, with sides a few
inches high, forming consequently a light shallow case,
in which the bags might be packed for travelling. To
inflate the bar, two or three men, standing on planks
attached to the lower surface of the bag, lifted the
frame, by which the bag became stretched, and air
rushed in through a cock or spigot, which Was after-
wards closed ; and in this way the bag was filled with
air in a few seconds, without the aid of bellows. The
bags are of course intended, by their buoyancy in
water, to support the planks for a temporary bridge.
The* vfaot describes a similar contrivance as being in
use to cross the Tigris, and even to travel down that
river. The whole structure is called a kalec, and is
formed thus:— the kalec is composed of twenty rows
of inflated bags, each row formed of thirteen bags
lashed to a pole. Over these, placed about two feet
and a half apart, the floor is laid, forming a platform
twenty-four feet by eighteen ; and on this platform the
merchandise, &c. is placed.

Air-tight cases, made of more durable materials than
skin or canvas, have been more or less used as the
floating support of temporary bridges. A German
engineer of the last century constructed a bridge in
the following manner : — he formed air-tight cases of
light planks, each case being five feet long, one foot
broad, and one deep. The cases were divided into
four compartments each, by interior partitions, for the
double purpose of preventing one leak from filling a
whole case, and of giving it strength to resist the out-
ward pressure. Four of these cases lashed together
side by side formed a raft, weighing about three hun-
dred pounds, and capable of sustaining a frame of
boarding at the top. To make a bridge of such rafts
for infantry, one of the rafts was placed in the water,
and pushed oft' to make room for a Second, which was
then launched, and connected with the first by the
framing of the two being clamped together. Both
rafts, so connected, were then pushed onwards, to give
place to the next, and so on till the whole line of com-
munication was formed. The rafts were kept steady
from the movement of the current by a rope stretched
across the stream from bank to bank. Infantry march-
ing in single file were capable of passing along such
a bridge. Twenty of sucn cases, forming a raft mea-
suring twenty feet by five, would form one element
of a bridge sufficiently strong for the passage of ca-
valry.

Empty casks have often been used as the buoyant
supporters of a temporary bridge. The Russians, in
their wars against the Turks and Tartars, have always
been obliged to carry across the deserts supplies of
water sufficient for several days' consumption; and
the casks, after having served for this purpose, have
been generally reserved for constructing rafts and
bridges. In such cases each company took with it a
large barrel of water for its own use ; and in order to
make the empty vessels available for the purposes of a
bridge* eight or ten planks are likewise carried by the
men of each company, in turn. Nine casks, each two
feet long by two and a half diameter in the largest
part, supporting a frame- work of timber nine feet long,
is calculated, when the floated casks are filled with

air and well corked, to bear a weigh of nearly four
thousand pounds ; and a bridge of such rafts would
bear cavalry in single or infantry in double file.

Sometimes boats, casks, air-tight case*, and bags
are all equally beyond the reach of an army, br are not
fitted for the object in view, when the troops are about
to cross a river. In such case a continuous raft of
timber is sometimes constructed, reaching from bank
to bank ; and if trees arc scarce, wood is procured by
that sort of military licence which the events of war so
often illustrate. Sir H. Douglas, in his work on
4 Military Bridges/ gives a remarkable instance of this
kind in connection with the Duke of Wellingtons
campaigns in the Peninsula. When, in July, 1809, the
British head-quarters were at l'lacentia, it became
necessary to secure the means by which a junction
might be formed with Cuesta; and two companies
were accordingly ordered to construct a raft-bridge
over the river Tictar at Baragona. The officer to
whom the execution of this duty was committed
could find no materials for his bridge, except the
timber of a large inn and its outhouses, about a mile
and a half distant, and some pine-trees that grew in a
neighbouring wood. The inn was thereupon Unroofed,
and all the available timbers appropriated, including
six large beams of dry fir, three or four hundred
rafters, six doors, and the mangers from the Btable.
With the large beams was formed a raft, measuring
twenty feet by twelve, capable of supporting a flooring
(made of the planks of the mangers) thirty feet in
length. This raft occupied the deepest part of the
river, and Was connected with either bank by a floor-
ing of the doors and mangers, supported by piles
driven into the shallow bed of the river. A strong
rope, stretched across the river, and secured at each
end, kept the raft in its place. On the singular raft-
bridge thus constructed, the whole British force crossed
the river on the 18th of July.

On another but similar occasion, when a British
force wanted to cross the river Alvwlla, in pursuit of
Marshal Ney'a force, they pulled down an oil-mill to
furnish beams for a raft, and used the doors of the
houses and the materials of the corn-chests (which in
Portugal are very large) for planking; with these
materials a communication was speedily restored in a
very ingenious manner, though neither nails nor tools
could be procured.

A - bridge of boats " is a medium of communication
much more frequently adopted in military manoeuvres
than any of the preceding, when the facilities for its
formation are at hand. In such a case, when a river
is about to be crossed, all the boats arc seized from the
neighbouring banks, and applied to immediate service.
The boats are ranged side by side, or at least parallel,
with head and stern in the direction of the river's
course, so as to present their sides towards the banks.
Boats as nearly of one size as possible are placed next
to each other, in order to maintain an uniform leveL
An interval is left between every two boat*, and planks
are laid across from boat to boat, the planks and the
boats being so secured as to make a roadway suffi-
ciently firm for an army. Bridges of boats have been
in this way constructed of enormous dimensions. It
is recorded that in 1739, when a Russian army was
about to cross the Dnieper, an inundation had caused
the river to overflow the adjacent country to a width*
of two leagues ; nevertheless the Russians formed a
bridge of boats across the entire breadth.

In France bateaux, or flat-bottomed boats, are some-
times provided, to be carried with the army to the
place where a river is to be crossed, and there used^
instead of depending on the uncertainty of finding a %
supply of boats on hand.

{To be continued.]

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A PAY AT THE NOTTINGHAM LACE-MANUFACTORIES.

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[March, 1843.

certs a number of pins through the parchment into the
cushion, in places determined by the pattern. She is
also provided with a number of small bobbins, on which
threads are wound ; fine thread being used for making
the meshes or net, and a coarser kind, called gimp or
gytnp, for working the device. The work is begun at
the upper part of the cushion by tying together the
threads in pairs, and each pair is attached to one of
the pins thrust through the cushion. The threads are
then twisted one round another in various ways, ac-
cording to the pattern, the bobbins serving as handles
at well as for a store of material, and the pins serving
as knots or fixed points, or centres, round which the
threads may be twisted. The pins inserted in the
cushion at the commencement are merely to hold the
threads ; but as each little mesh is made in the progress
of the working, other pins are inserted, to prevent the
threads from untwisting ; and the device on the parch-
ment shows where these insertions are to occur.

Such is the simple principle, modified according to
the pattern about to be produced, on which * pillow-
lace ' is made ; and it is astonishing how many females
have been dependent for their subsistence on this occu-
pation. Throughout the midland counties, especially
Bedford, Buckingham, and Northampton, almost every
town and village exlubits this domestic branch of ma-
nufacture; but so greatly has it suffered by the com-
petition of the Nottingham lace, that it would perhaps
he difficult now to say what is the number of persons
thus employed. Iu a petition presented to Queen
Adelaide in 1830, it was stated that a hundred and
twenty thousand persons were dependent on the pillow-
lace manufacture, and were reduced to an extremely
low rate of earnings ; but it is supposed that the num-
ber has been since then greatly reduced. Mr. Slater
(in M'Culloch's * Commercial Dictionary'), after speak-
ing of an improved pattern of pillow-lace introduced
about the year 1800, says, " From that time to 1812,
the improvement and consequent success were asto-
nishing and unprecedented. At Honiton in Devon-
shire, the manufacture had arrived at that perfection,
was so tasteful in the design, and so delicate and beau-
tiful in the woikmanship, as not to be excelled even by
the best specimens of Brussels lace. During the late
war veils of this lace were sold in London at from
twenty to a hundred guineas: they are now (1831) sold
at from eight to fifteen guineas. The effects of the
competition of machinery, however, were about this
time felt; and in 1815 the broad laces began to be
superseded by the new manufacture. The pillow-lace
trade has since been gradually dwindling into insig-
nificance."

Here then we come to the point of connection be-
tween pillow-lace and machine-lace : we see that the
former thirty or forty years back from the present time
was in its zenith ; and we have now to watch the steps
whereby that system was produced which has exhibited
such wonderful results at Nottingham.

Nottingham is the centre of the cotton hosiery dis-
trict, as Leicester is of the worsted hosiery, and. Derby
of the silk. In all three varieties, the weaving (if it may
be so termed) of the stockings is effected through the
instrumentality of the * stocking-frame,' one of the most
singular machines belonging to our textile manufac-
tures ; and it was through the medium of this frame
that machinery first became applied to the making of a
material which should imitate lace. A stocking, it
would be seen by a little examination, is formed by a
series of loops, in which a long and continuous thread
is passed successively through loops or eyes into which
it is temporarily thrown ; whereas lace, whether made
on the pillow or by machinery, results from a twisting of
one thread round another.

It is said to have been about the year 1770 that one

Hammond, a frame-work knitter (which is the techni-
cal name for a stocking-maker) at Nottingham, while
looking at a piece of pillow-lace in his wife's cap,
bethought him of trying whether he could imitate it by
a modified action of his stocking-frame. With what
degree of success the attempt was followed is not clearly
stated ; but in all probability it was more instrumental
in spurring on the ingenuity "of others than in effecting
the immediate object desired. From that time Not-
tingham and its vicinity became a scene of remarkable
bustle and ingenuity ; numerous frame-work knitters
being led, by the hope of pecuniary advantage, to
study and improve the capabilities of their hosiery-
frames. By degrees the retail shops exhibited speci-
mens of machine-made lace, so much cheaper than that
made by hand, as to give rise to a progressively in-
creased demand ; and Nottingham became the nucleus
of an entirely new branch of manufacture.

The great improvement, however, which gave to the
new branch of industry its most extraordinary impulse,
resulted from the inventive ingenuity of Mr. Heathcoat.
This gentleman constructed a machine, which, from cer-
tain arrangements of its parts, was called a * bobbin
frame * or machine ; and nence has resulted the term
* bobbin-net.' But Mr. Heathcoat, like many other in-
genious men who have introduced improvements in
manufactures (among whom Jacquard furnishes a nota-
ble instance), was treated roughly for his pains by some
of the workmen ; and he transterred his capital and
skill to Devonshire, where the bobbin-net manufacture
soon attained a high degree of importance.

Mr. Heathcoat, having obtained a patent for his im-
portant improvements about the year 1809, retained the
use of it in a great measure in his own hands till about
the year 1823 j when, the patent expiring, the manu-
facture was taken up with an extraordinary degree of
activity by many persons at Nottingham. " A tempo-
rary prosperity, says Mr. M^Cullocn, " shone upon the
trade ; and numerous individuals — clergymen, lawyers,
doctors, and others—readily embarked capital in so
tempting a speculation. races fell in proportion as
production increased ; but the demand was immense ;
and the Nottingham lace-frame became the organ of
general supply, rivalling and supplanting, in plain nets,
trie most finished productions of France and the Ne-
therlands." The earnings of workmen were quite extra-
ordinary. The inhabitants of Nottingham look back to
that period as to a sort of golden age, never equalled
before or since, when men could earn wages such" as
would startle those unacquainted with the matter. Dr.
Ure remarks, that "it was no uncommon thing for an
artisan to leave his usual calling, and, betaking himself
to a lace-frame, of which he was part proprietor, realize
by working upon it 20*., 30*., nay even 40*.* per day.
In consequence of such wonderful gains, Nottingham,
the birthplace of this new art, with Loughborough, and
the adjoining villages, became the scene of an epidemic
mania. Many, though nearly devoid of mechanical
genius or the constructive talent, tormented themselves
night and day with projects of bobbins, pushers, lockers,
point-bars, and needles of every various form, till their
minds got permanently bewildered. Several lost their
senses altogether ; and some, after cherishing visions of
wealth, as in the old time of alchemy, finding their
schemes abortive, sank into despair, and committed
suicide."

By degrees the furor subsided, and the bobbin-net
manufacture took its place among those which are of
national importance, but not pre-eminent for lucrative
returns. Competition and superabundant supply, a*
usual, brought this about. Various manufacturers and
machinists, among whom are Mr. Morley and Mr.
Leavers, have from time to time introduced improve-
merits and modifications of the machine ; and steam-

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power, which was first applied to this manufacture in
1816, became gradually adopted more and more, till the
most extraordinary changes have resulted in the prices
of the finished articles. It has been stated that lace,
which was sold by Mr. Heathcoat for five guineas a
yard soon after the taking out of his patent, can now
be equalled at eighteenpence a yard ; that quillings, as
made by a newly-constructed machine in 1810, and sold
at four shillings and sixpence a yard, can now be not only
equalled but excelled for three halfpence a yard ; and
that a certain width of net, which brought seventeen
pounds per piece twenty years ago, is now sold for seven
shillings ! xhere are but few other branches of our
manufactures in which equal vicissitudes have occurred
in the same space of time.

The reader will by this time have had ample means
for judging how it is that machine-made lace has done
so much towards extinguishing the old pillow-lace ; and
will be prepared to accompany us in a brief notice of
the manufacture.

From the mode in which the lace-manufacture is sub-
divided at Nottingham, any notice of one single factory
would fail to convey an idea of the general system
pursued, because links would be wanting in the chain
of processes. For this reason we have thought it better,
instead of confining ourselves to the general arrange-
ments of one large factory, to consider the whole town
as a collective lace-manufacturing community, and to
follow a piece of lace from house to house, and from
factory to factory, till it is presented to us in a finished
form. Several manufacturers^ some of whose names
we shall have to mention, have kindly furnished the
facilities for this object.

In the first place, then, the cotton-thread is procured
from the Manchester districts. There are probably a
few cotton-mills at hand, but the main bulk of the
material employed is furnished by the great Lancashire
and Cheshire firms. We do not know whether flax-
thread is ever now used for machine-made lace, but
cotton fonns the great staple, and to that we may con-
fine our attention. The * cotton-yarn agents ' are
perhaps the first parties in the chain of operations at
Nottingham to whom it may be necessary to refer.
They come between the Manchester spinner and the
Nottingham manufacturer, effecting sales of cotton
thread or yarn from the former to the latter. These
agents are in some cases lace-agents also, and effect
sales of the manufactured articles; indeed they oc-
casionally receive a portion of the finished lace as pay-
ment for the thread supplied.

Then comes the • manufacturer/ A bobbin-net
machine is so complex and so costly, that, unlike a
common loom, the actual workman can seldom possess
one of his own ; he must be indebted to another man
who possesses capital, for his working implements. In
some cases the capitalist has a large building, contain-
ing all the requirements and resources of a regular
factory, and where the machines are generally worked
by steam-power. In other cases he may have a large
number of machines, but instead of working them
on his own premises, he lets them out at so much a
day to middle-men called * machine-holders.' These
machine-holders intervene between the machine-owners
and the workmen, much in the same way as a house-
holder supplies a link between the house-owner and the
lodger ; he pays rent to the owner, and receives it back,
with a profit, from those who occupy a subordinate posi-
tion to himself. In such cases as these the machines
are worked by hand-power, since steam-power only
* becomes available in a tolerably large building.

Mr. Drinkwater, one of the Factory Commissioners,
who visited Nottingham for the purposes of the Com-
mission in 1833, after giving a list of the machine-
owners, says :— •• It will be seen by this list that a very

large proportion of them are proprietors of a single
machine ; in this case the owner generally works it
himself, and so far partakes of the character of master
and journeyman. It is not* uncommon to find one of
these costly machines, which may have occasioned an
outlay of 500/. to 1000/., within a house but little
removed above the degree of a cottage ; but for the
most part thev are worked in the attics and upper stories
of substantial houses, the lower parts of which are
occupied as shops or lodging-houses. The centre of
the town is not much filled with them ; but in all the
approaches and in the back streets, as well as in the
better houses of the lower town, the incessant thumping
of the machine is heard."

As an example of a factory on a considerable scale,
we may mention one which we visited in the vicinity
of Nottingham, in the possession of a Mr. Burton.
The lace-manufacture is carried on not only in Notting-
ham, but throughout a circle of wide radius, of which
that town is the centre. About two mHes north of the
town, on the road to Mansfield and Worksop, is a
pretty little village called Carrington, many of the
inhabitants of which are employed in this factory. The
factory presents to view a double pile of buildings, ex-
hibiting long ranges of windows, story after story, to a
considerable height, and surmounted by the usual
pinnacle of a factory — viz. a chimney. The entrance
and the staircases occupy a middle compartment
between the two ranges of buildings.

On entering some of the stories of the factory, the
effect to a stranger is most deafening, for the lace-
making machine is anything but a silent worker. Some
of the stories" of the building are filled with the ma-
chines, making broad net several yards wide, or nar-
rower net for quillings. Some are occupied by winders,
winding the yarn on the very remarkable bobbins em-
ployed in the manufacture. Some are devoted to pro-
cesses subsequent to the actual formation of the net,
but preparative to the sale of the commodity. In the
lower part of the factory are smiths' and engineers'
shops, where the mac nines are partially made, and
wholly adjusted to working order. In a court-yard in
front of the factory is an appendage which may at first
seem rather remarkable, viz., a gas'house. The factory
being a mile or two from Nottingham renders a supply
of gas from thence a serious affair ; while the system on
which the factory is conducted renders necessary a
large amount of night-work. The machinery is kept at
work for twenty hours out of the twenty-four, two com-
plete sets of workpeople being engaged ; and thus a
supply of artificial light is required for a preat number
of hours. It is to furnish this, and in sufficient quantity,
that the gas-works, with the necessary apparatus of
retorts, purifiers, gasometer, &c, have been constructed
within tne establishment.

At the factory here described, various kinds of net
and lace, both plain and figured, are made. At another
establishment which we visited, in Nottingham, viz.
that of Mr. Beck, the machines are employed in the
production of fancy net alone, that is, such as are in-
tended to imitate the productions of hand-labour ; both
in the form of wide pieces, and in that of narrow quill-
ings and borders. In a third establishment, the property
of* Mr. Cleaver, we found the machines wholly em-
ployed in making silk edgings ; a great many widths
being made at one time, and then separated by drawing
out threads from between them ; and some of the ma-
chines able to produce ten thousand yards of silk edging
per week.

So it is throughout Nottingham and its vicinity.
Some manufacturers undertake the fabrication of one.
kind of net or lace, and some another; but there is a
genera] similarity of proceeding throughout, both in
the mode in which the machines act, and in the pre-

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paratory and finishing processes to which the lace is
subjected.

The reader may now very naturally be desirous of
knowing what kind of a machine it is that produces
such remarkable results. Here we have to state at
once that a thorough comprehension of its action can
scarcely by any possibility be acquired from a written
description, unless accompanied by a large series of il-
lustrative engravings, and studied closely bv those who
are accustomed to investigate the action of machinery.
This is, of course, quite beyond our present purpose,
which relates only to a slight exposition of the general
principles involved.

Let us ask, then, what is it that the machine has to
perform? It has to entwine threads one around another
in such a way as to form meshes or holes, bounded by a
circular, a square, a hexagonal, or an octagonal margin,
according to the pattern. We may make the following
supposition : — Let a number of strings be suspended
from the ceiling of a room in pairs, so that when the
two strings of each pair are twisted round each other
by hand, they may form half as many ropes as there
were strings. We will further suppose, that after two
or three turns of one string round another, each string
is twisted once round one string of an adjoining pair,
and then returned again to its former companion. By
this arrangement, each rope would become linked to
the adjoining ropes on either side, and the whole would
form a kind of net-work, presenting holes or meshes
bearing some analogy to those of net-lace.

Or we may represent it pictorial ly, thus :— Here we

[Strlngi twfcted Is the manner of the botdrin-iret. j

have a small number of strings, fixed at one end ; and
each string has to be passed diagonally round and be-
tween the others, so as to form knots, links, loops, or
whatever fastenings they may seem most to resemble.
The reader, perhaps, could hardly bring the matter
home to his own mind more clearly than by selecting a
few threads of different colours, fastening them at one
end, and twisting them round one another in a certain
definite and pre-arranged order : he would find that
the meshes produced would bear some slight resem-
blance to different kinds of net, according to the man-
ner and the order in which the successive threads were
brought into the twist.
Now it is to effect such convolutions as these that the

machine is employed ; and there is certainly much to
call for admiration in the successful adaptation of parts
to this end. In common weaving, it is well known that
the cross threads pass at right angles over and under
the long thread, passing over ana under each thread
alternately, if it be to form a plain material, or
passing over several threads consecutively and under
one, if it be to form a twill. But in the produc-
tion of net this crossing is at the same time accom-
panied by a twist, so that one thread passes completely
round another.

Annexed is a representation of part of a winding-
engine ; to which succeeds another cut portraying

[Winding- Ecghu.]

the essential parts of one kind of bobbin-net machine.
The former winds the cotton for the latter, and is repre-
sented here to show how the cotton leaves the form
of skeins, and is wound on a bobbin or reel.

The net-machines are infinitely more complex. There
are several kinds employed by the Nottingham manufac-
turers, and known by the names of the * circular-bolt
machine/ the * lever-machine/ &c., according to certain
peculiarities in the mode of action ; but one of these,
viz. the * circular bolt/ which is more used than any of
the others, will be sufficient for our purpose. It so far
bears an analogy to a common loom tnat there are warp-
threads stretched in a parallel layer, and weft-threads
wound on bobbins which pass between the warp-threads ;
but beyond this point the analogy is very slight indeed.
In common weaving, the warp-threads lie horizontal ;
here they are vertical. In the former case, the bobbins
are only few in number ; in the latter they amount to
hundreds, and even thousands. In the former the bobbin
passes between and among the warp-threads in the di-
rection of the plane in which the warp lies ; in the lat-
ter it passes at right angles to that direction. In the
former there is only one weft-thread, or one bobbin or
shuttle, to many thousand warp-threads ; in the latter,
there are as many separate well-threads and bobbins as
there are warp-threads.

When we thus speak of * bobbins ' in reference to
common weaving, we depart a little from common no-
menclature ; for the name of * shuttle ' is given to the
little machine which carries the wefl*thread : but the
analogy of principle is observable, independent of the
technical terms employed. The shuttle, in common
weaving, is a kind of little boat, containing the weft- *
thread, wound upon a pirn or axis. But the bobbin of
a net-machine is a most remarkable contrivance. The
whole apparatus, including the bobbin on which the
cotton t/eft-thread is wound, and the carriage or frame

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in which it is placed, is not thicker than the diameter
of the meshes in the net to be made. Very frequently
the thickness is not more than one-thirtieth of an inch !
The bobbin consists of two thin disks of brass, aoout an
inch and a half in diameter, laid face to face with a

slight intervening space ; and in this minute space the
thread is wound, in quantity about fifty or sixty yards
to each bobbin. The bobbin is then fitted into a kind
of carriage, which conveys it between the threads of the
warp, and at the same time allows the thread to be un-

Keeeutial parts of the Bobbin-net Machine]

(The warp, ascending from the beam A, passes through small holes in a guide-bar B, and thence to the point C, where the bobbins hi their
respective combs, driven by the ledges on the two bars beneath, traverse Uie warp to and fro, and interlace the threads as shown at D ; the points K
feinting to maintain the forms of the meshes.)

wound from the bobbin : in short, the carriage is to the
bobbin what the little boat of a shuttle is to the pirn on
which the weft-thread is wound.

No less than three thousand six hundred of such bob-
bins as are here described are sometimes used in one
machine ! Many of the machines are twenty quarters
wide — that is, htted to the manufacture of net five
yards in width ; and have twenty of these bobbins to
the inch. If the arrangements qf the machine, as re-

E resented in the cut, be examined (the moving power
eing here wholly omitted), it will be seen that the
warp-threads are wound on a beam in the lower part of
the machine, from which they ascend to the upper
part. The warp is divided into two parcels (somewhat
in the same manner as the warp of a common loom by
the action of the treadles), and each parcel is suscepti-
ble of a reciprocating motion, alternately to the right
and left. Trie weft-threads, wound on the bobbins, are
fastened each at one end to the upper part of the ma-
chine ; and the bobbins are suspended so as to have a
backward and forward motion between the warp-
threads, like so many clock pendulums, being guided
between the warp-threads by a very curious piece of
apparatus called a * comb/ l*he principle of action,
then, is this : — After the bobbins have been driven be-
tween the respective warp-threads, the warp is shifted
a little on one side, so that, when the bobbins return,
they pass through openings different from those which
they traversed in the first instance ; and by this means
the weft-thread, unwinding from each bobbin in the
course of its movement, becomes twisted round one of
the warp-threads. After this has been repeated two or
three times, the comb which carries the bobbins is it-
self shifted to and fro laterally, by which the bobbins
are brought opposite to openings between the warp-
threads different from those to wnich they were before
opposed. Herein lies the whole principle. According

as the front layer of warp, or the hinder layer, or the
comb carrying the bobbins, are shifted to and fro late-
rally, so does the weft-thread, las it becomes unwound
from the bobbins, twist round the warp-threads during
the passage of the bobbins across ; a shifting, in one or
other of several different ways, being effected immedi-
ately after each traverse of the bobbin. After a cer-
tain number of twistings have been effected, a series of
points become inserted between the warp-threads, and
temporarily hold up the knotted twists so as to form the
meshes of the net.

It has been often said, and truly, that the bobbin-net
machine is one of the most complicated which the in-
genuity of man has ever devised ; and it may therefore
well be supposed that nothing more than the bare
principle can be here exhibited. Perhaps it may assist
the reader if we carry out our former supposition a little
further. Let a series of strings be suspended from the
ceiling in two rows, with their ends fastened to a hori-
zontal bar ; and let a number of small pendulums be
suspended between the strings, and enabled to oscillate
to and fro between them. Then, if after each traverse
of the pendulums between the stretched threads, the
rows, one or both, of threads be shifted a little on one
side, so that the pendulums may return through openings
different from those which they before traversed, we
should have a system of movements somewhat analo-
gous to those in the machine; and the strings by
which the pendulums were suspended would be found
to twist round the stretched vertical strings. If we
further suppose that each row of strings is capable of
being shifted independent of the other, and that the
pendulum strings be fastened to a shifting bar near
the ceiling, we might imitate in a rough way the series
of movements by which net is made.

Not only is plain net made by these movements of
the machine, but figured net also* In plain nets, all

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the bobbins are moved similarly at one time ; but in
fancy nets, some are stationary, some pass between the
warp-threads, some are shifted laterally to the distance
of one mesh, some to the distance of two or three
meshes ; some move to the right, some to the left ;
the warp-threads, too, instead of being divided into
two parcels only, are divided into several, each of
whicn is susceptible of the lateral movement inde-
pendent of the others. It is by modifications of
these lateral movements that all the numerous varieties
of machine-made lace or net are produced ; and if this
fact be borne in mind, the principle of the machine
becomes to a certain degree explicable. It is known
to those who have witnessed weaving, that fijejured
weaving results from a multiplication or extension of
the same kind of movements as those whereby plain
weaving is effected ; and the same may be said of
lace-making. It results from this, that a great portion
of the complexity of the machine is due to the me-
chanism by which these lateral movements are pro-
duced : if the warp is divided into several parcels, each
of which can be moved, either to the right or to the
left, independently of the other parcels; and if the
bobbins are similarly classed in several parcels, each of
which shifts without reference to the others; it follows
that an almost infinite variety cf movements may be
brought about ; and it is not difficult to see that these
movements must affect the manner in which the bob-
bin-threads twist round the warp-threads, and conse-
quently affect the pattern produced.

It is by means of levers that the various parcels of
warp and bobbin threads are shifted laterally, after each
traverse of the bobbins ; and the annexed cut shows

one of the modern con-
trivances for governing
the movements of the
levers. This is an appli-
cation of the Jacquard
apparatus, which we saw
at work in the establish-
ment of Mr. Beck. Near
the end of the bobbin-
net machine is fixed the
pentagonal bar here re-
presented, each side of
which is pierced with as
many holes as there are
pins or levers above, seen
at the top of the cut. A
number of oblong pieces
of card, from two to five
hundred, are connected
together in an endless
chain, and so arranged as
to size, that when one of
the cards is laid on one
side of the pentagon, and
the latter made to revolve,
the whole series will be
brought successively in
contact with the penta-
gon, each one lying tem-
porarily on the flat upper
side. Every card is pierced
with holes, varying in
number and disposition
according to the pattern
of the lace to be pro-
duced, but never more in number than the pins or
levers above ; and these holes are so cut as to coincide
exactly with those in the pentagon. Suppose, then,
the pentagon to have an up and down motion, so as to
be brought in contact with the pins, what would result?
Wherever a hole occurs in the card, it permits the pin

opposite to it to penetrate into the pentagon ; but
where a blank occurs, by the card not being perforated
opposite to a particular pin, the pin cannot enter the
pentagon, but is driven upwards. Now the warp and
bobbin threads, and other apparatus of the machine,
are so connected with these pins, that when one of the
pins is driven upwards, some part of the thread-appa-
ratus is shifted laterally ; and it hence follows that the
disposition of the holes in the cards determines the
order and number of the shillings of the threads. It
bears a strong analogy to the action of a barrel-organ
or a musical snuff-box, where the number and disposi-
tion of the pins on the barrel determine the pipes and
the springs which shall be sounded. The number of
cards employed depends on the number of successive
movements requisite to form one complete specimen of
the pattern.

Whether the article be plain broad net, fancy broad
net, sprigged net, plait net, wire-ground net, quilling
net, or edging, the movements of the machine by
which it is made depend pretty much on the same prin-
ciples, and may therefore all be alluded to in connec-
tion. But in noticing the subsequent processes, it will
be desirable to take some one kind as a standard ; and
for this purpose it will be well to select a specimen of
* piece-goods,' such as a collar or a cape, in which all
the figures are worked by hand on a piece of plain
net.

After a piece of plain net. has left the machine, it
undergoes the process of * gassing,' or singeing, for the
removal of the nairy filaments from the cotton. There
are some firms in Nottingham which confine their at-
tention to this operation only. The gassing-machine
is a very beautiful contrivance, in which the manufac-
tured article is drawn between two rollers, and exposed,
as it passes, to the action of a large number of minute
blazes of gas, which remove the little adherent fila-
ments without scorching or burning the net.

Supposing, as we do, the specimen to be a piece of
plain net which is to be embroidered by hand, the net
next receives a slight printing, with some coloured pig-
ment, of the pattern which is to be worked upon it.
There are in Nottingham a small number of artists (for
so they are or ought to be) who design patterns for the
lace-workers, and cut them out on wooden blocks, pre-
cisely as those for the floor-cloth manufacture. Tins
is evidently an employment in which taste and a know*
ledge of the forms of natural objects are required ; and
it is satisfactory to find that a School of Design is about
to be established at Nottingham, with the avowed
object of elevating the taste and character of the lace-
patterns produced. The lace is generally carried to
the house of the • designer and stamper,' who stamps
the pattern very slightly on it. In the instance of a
cape or collar, or any article of definite shape, the
stamp gives the shape and size of the article, as well as
the figures with which it is to be decorated.

When the stamper has imprinted on the net the out-
lines of the device, a * pattern-setter ' decides on the
manner in which the pattern shall be filled up. For
instance, if a leaf form part of the pattern, the stamper
only gives the outline of the leaf, and it rests with the

Eattern- setter to determine how the needle of the em-
roideress shall fill up the device.
We next go to one of the humble homes of the nu-
merous and lowly-paid * lace-runners.' The term em-
broidery does not seem to be much used in connection
with the Nottingham lace-trade, most of those who
work on net with the needle being termed * lace-runners,*
Each workwoman has a frame, on which the net is
stretched out horizontally, at a height of about three
feet from the ground. She sits on a stool or chair,
places her left hand under the stretched net, to keep it
in a right position for working, and with her right hand

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works the pattern with needle and thread in every pait
where the stamper has imprinted a device. The needle
is inserted between and among the meshes of the net,
and stitches of greater or less length taken, until there
is a body of thread laid in sufficient to mark the device
conspicuously. This working round of the outline is
called • running*/ while the filling-up of the interior
parts is termed either * fining ' or * open-working/ ac-
cording as the original meshes of the net are brought
to a smaller or a larger size by the action of the needle.
How, by the work of the needle, the meshes of the net
may be made larger or smaller, will be easily compre-
hended by the one sex, and must be taken for granted
by the other.

It is sad work to see how continuously these poor
females must labour before they can earna small pit-
tance. Little do those who see in the attractive shop-
windows of London the beautiful veils and capes which
Nottingham now produces, imagine how many aching
fingers and eyes, and perhaps hearts, have been con-
cerned in their production. We believe it to be pretty
nearly correct to say that at the present time the
earnings of the lace-runners do not, on an average,
much exceed a half-penny an hour ; for the weekly
earnings for long days' work are not much above three
shillings, and are frequently below it.

The mode in which this embroidery business is trans-
acted is often thus : — A person takes from a manufac-
turer as much work as twenty, or perhaps fifty, females
can embroider ; and she devotes as many rooms as her
house can afford to the reception of the workers, who
pay to her a trifling sum (out of their trifling earnings)
for the use of the room. Our frontispiece, for example,
was taken in a garret or attic in a house in an humble
neighbourhood, in which seven or eight young women
were at work, in the same manner as the three repre-
sented in the cut. They all received their work from
the woman who rented the house, who paid them for
their labour, deducting a rent for the frame-room, and,
we believe, a further trifle for some other item. To
eke out their earnings, the women in one room often
have their meals in common, making up, for a few
pence, a hash or stew sufficient to dine seven or eight.
There they sit, for twelve Or fourteen hours a day, with
the head stooping over their work, plying the needle,
and driving off dull thoughts as well as they may by
singing (for there is said to be' much singing among
the Nottingham work-people). It is not unfrequent
for them to say—" If the great ladies of London knew
how much work we have to do to their veils and capes
for a shilling, they would pay better." But, poor things,
these embroiderers do not know how complex, in such a
country as England, are the circumstances which regu-
late the wages of labour : they would perhaps find that
in reality the " great ladies of London " have but little
influence on the rate of the seamstresses' earnings.

Some of the articles in lace are decorated by • tam-
bouring' instead of • lace-running.' This is done in
frames similar to the others, and by females in a similar
rank of life ; but a very small hook is used instead of a
needle, by which a thread is wound as a kind of chain
about and among the threads of the net.

After the lace-runners have worked the collar, cape,
veil, or other net-lace article, it is taken back to the
manufacturer, who then employs • lace-menders' to ex-
amine every piece, and mend, with needle and thread,
every defective mesh in the net, whether produced in the
machine or by any subsequent accident. This is done
so skilfully, and the form of the mesh so closely imi-
tated, thai the mended part can scarcely be detected
except by a practised eye. The females engaged at
' lace-mending ' earn much higher wages than the lace-
runners, on account of the greater skill required.

The bleaching is an important part of the net manu-

facture, and is carried on byseveral firms in the neigh-
bourhood of Nottingham. The net, after going-tfirough
the greater part of the processes, has acquired a tint
nearly as dark as brown hoi land ; and it is the office of
the bleacher to give it the snowy whiteness which adds
so much to the beauty of the material. This bleaching
is effected by a series of processes, such as scouring,
exposure to the action of bleaching liquid, drying, &c.
At one bleaching establishment near Nottingham, that
of Messrs. Manlove and Alliott, we witnessed a most
remarkable mode of drying the net after bleaching, re-
cently patented, we believe, by these gentlemen. Usu-
ally the bleached article is wrung or pressed, and then
hung up in a hot room to dry ; but in this new mode the
net is wrapped round in a kind of coil, between two con-
centric copper cylinders, the outer one of which is per-
forated with holes. The apparatus is then made to
rotate with extraordinary velocity, so great even as a
thousand times in a minute ; and the centrifugal force
thus engendered drives out the water from the damp
net through the holes in the cylinder, thus leaving the
material nearly dry. It is expected that this invention
will introduce important improvements in bleaching
and analogous processes.

If the net or tace is to be black, instead of white, it is
dyed instead of bleached.

After being again examined to see whether any fur-
ther mending is required, the net next goes to be
* dressed,' and this takes us td the work-rooms of another
class of persons. The Mace-dressing rooms' of Not-
tingham are sometimes two hundred feet in length, and
furnished as in the annexed cut. Long frames extend
from end to end of the shop> capable of being adjusted
to any width by a screw, and provided with a row of
pins round the edge. The net or lace is first dipped in
a mixture of gum, paste, and water, wrung out, and
stretched upon the frame by means of the pins or
studs. While on the frame it is rubbed well with
flannels, to equalize the action of the stiffening material
in different parts, and then left to dry in a warm room.
It is to the nature of the solution used that the different
kinds of net and lace owe their different degrees of
stiffness.

If the manufactured article be a cape, a collar, or a
veil, it is not till the present stage in the proceedings
that it is cut from the piece. The stamping, the em-
broidering, the gassing, the bleaching, the dressing
— all are done while the piece is yet whole, several
yards in length ; but when it approaches thus far to-
wards completion, the material is cut up, according to
the size ana shape given by the stamp, and a * pearl
edge,' or something similar, is sewn on by hand round
every edge.

After a process of rolling, pressing, ticketing, &c,
the article is finished.

The kind of article which we have selected as a spe-
cimen or standard comprises within the range of its
manufacture nearly all the processes involved in the
other branches of the lace-trade ; and will therefore
serve to give an idea of them all. As regards the
question, to what degree hand-labour is employed upon
the different varieties, the following will be a kind of
summing-up. In a plain net the whole fabric is made
at the machine. In sprigged net, the groundwork and
a portion of every sprig are made at the machine, and
the outline of every sprig is then worked by hand. In
fancy broad-net the device as well as the groundwork
are made at the machine. In plait-net the same thing
is observable, and also in tatting-net. In edging and
lace for borders the device is now very generally
worked by the machine, but in some varieties it is
partly put in by hand. In 'piece-goods,' such as
capes, collars, and veils, the device is almost wholly
worked by hand, a very small proportion being effected

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[Mabch, 1843.

[View in a Lace*Drewing Room.]

by the Jacquard appendage to the lace-machine. -As
an exemplification oi the manner in which the machine
and the hand imitate each other's productions, we annex
representations of two specimens, one of which (a) was

[Specimen of Machine Lace.]

wholly worked at the machine, and the other (b) wholly
figured by hand on a machine-made net, excepting the

[Specimen of Run Lace.]

pearl edge,' which, after being made at the machine,
was sewn on by hand.

We stated, in a former part of the article, that the
machine-holder, whether owner or not, buys thread from
the Manchester eotton-spinner,'and then works it up
into net or lace. He does not do anything further to

the material, but sells it at once, either to other manu-
facturers, or to agents and dealers. These other manu-
facturers carry the material through all the subsequent
operations, employing and paying for the services of
the gassers, the bleachers, the dyers, the dressers, the
stampers, the menders, and the embroiderers. Some of
these manufacturers only undertake' the finishing of
the plain goods, while others confine themselves to the
fancy or embroidery department. One of these latter,
Mr. Hickling, to whose kindness we have been much
indebted, has been instrumental in the introduction of
the Nottingham * cardinal capes ' of modern lady-cos-
tume ; while other firms have taken up some other de-
partment in particular. Some are * cap-manufacturers ;'
that is, they procure the lace from the machine-work-
ers, dress and finish it, cut it up, and employ a number
of women to make it into caps. Lastly, agents, sent by
the great wholesale houses from London and elsewhere,
visit Nottingham periodically, and make their pur-
chases in lace and net ; for Nottingham is the market
for this commodity, whether made there or elsewhere.

Such, then, is a very brief sketch of a manufacture
which may be said to nave had no existence in the be-
ginning of the present century, and of which Mr. Fel-
kin (the greatest authority in all matters relating to the
bobbin-net trade) made the following estimate in 1831 :
he calculated that the capital employed in Manchester
in spinning thread for the bobbin-net manufacturers
amounted to nearly a million sterling; and that the
capital employed by the latter in various ways exceeded
two millions sterling ; that the number of persons em-
ployed in spinning, making, winding, embroidering,
mending, &c. for the bobbin-net work, amounted to
more than two hundred thousand ; that the raw ma-
terial (cotton and silk) used was worth about 150,000/.
annually, in the state as imported; that this value
was increased to 540,000/. when spun into thread ;
and that the final value, when manufactured into net,
and ready for sale, was nearly two millions sterling
per annum, or, including the wages of the embroiderers
employed in different parts of England, more than
three millions sterling! These results are certainly
extraordinary, and could have been but little antici-
pated by the inventors of the machine, sanguine as
they might be.

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[John preaching in the Wilderness.— From n portion of a picture hy Giotto.]

ESSAYS ON THE LIVES OF REMARKABLE

PAINTERS.— No. V.

GiotTO AHd his Scholars.

Before we say anything of the pergonal characteristics
of Giotto, we must return for a moment to that revo-
lution in art which originated with him — which seized
at once on all imaginations, all sympathies ; which
Dante, Boccaccio, and Petrarch have all commemorated
in immortal verse or as immortal prose ; which, during
a whole century, filled Italy and Sicily with disciples
formed in the same school and penetrated with the
same ideas. All that had been done in painting before
Giotto resolved itself into the imitation of certain
existing models, their improvement to a certain point
in style of execution : there was no new method ; the
Greekiah types were everywhere seen, more or less mo-
dified— a Madonna in the middle, with a couple of
lank saints or angels stuck on each side, holding sym-

no. 706.

bols; or with their names written over their heads, and
texts of scripture proceeding from their mouths ; or at
the most a lew figures, placed in such a position rela-
tively to each other as sufficed to make a story intel-
ligible, and the arrangement generally traditional and
arbitrary : such seems to have been the limit to which
painting had advanced previous to 1280.

Giotto appeared ; and almost from the beginning
of his career he not only deviated from the practice of
the older painters, but stood opposed to tnem. He
not only improved — he changed ; ne placed himself on
wholly new ground. He took up those principles
which Nicola Pisano had applied to sculpture, and
went to the same sources, to nature, ana to those
remains of pure antique art which showed him how to
look at nature. His residence at Rome while "yet
young, and in all the first glowing development of his
creative powers floust have had an incalculable in-
fluence on his after- works. Deficient to the end of

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his life in the knowledge of form, he was deficient in
that kind of heauty which depends on form ; but his
feeling for grace and harmony in the airs of his heads
and the arrangement of his groups was exquisite;
and the longer he practised his ai% the more free and
flowing became his lines. But, beyond grace and
beyond beauty, he aimed at the expression of natural
character and emotion, in order to render intelligible
his newly-invented scenes of action and his religious
allegories. A writer near his time speaks of it as
something new and wonderful, that in Giotto's pictures
" the personages who are in grief look melancholy, and
those who are joyous look gay." For his heads he intro-
duced a new type exactly reversing the Greek pattern :
long-shaped, half-shut eyes ; a long, straight nose ; and
a very short chin. The hands are rather delicately drawn,
but he could not design the feet well, for which reason
we generally find those of his men clothed in shoes or
sandals wherever it is possible, and those of hiB women
covered with flowing drapery. The management of
his draperies is, indeed, particularly characteristic;
distinguished by a certain lengthiness and narrowness
in the folds, in which however there is much taste
and simplicity, though in point of style as far from
the antique as from the complicated meanness of the
Byzantine models ; and it is curious that this peculiar
treatment of the drapery, these long perpendicular
folds, correspond in character with the principles of
Gothic architecture, and with it rose and declined. For
the stiff, wooden limbs, and motionless figures, of
the Byzantine school, he substituted life, movement,
and the look, at least, of flexibility. His notions of
grouping and arrangement he seems to have taken
Irom the ancient basso-relievos : there is a statuesque
grace and simplicity in his compositions which reminds
us of them. His style of colouring and execution was,
like all the rest, an innovation on received methods :
his colours were lighter and more roseate than had
ever been known ; the fluid by which they were tem-
pered more thin and easily managed ; and his frescoes
must have been skilfully executed to have stood so
well as they have done. Their duration is, indeed, no-
thing compared to the Egyptian remains ; but the
latter have been for ages covered up from light and
air in a dry sandy climate : those of Giotto have been
exposed to all the vicissitudes of weather and of under-
ground damp, have been whitewashed and every way
ill-treated, yet the fragments which remain have still
a surprising freshness, and his distemper pictures are
still wonderful. It is to be regretted that the^eader
cannot be referred to any collection in England for an
example of the characteristics here enumerated. We
have not in the National Gallery a single example of
Giotto or his scholars: the earliest picture we have
is dated nearly two hundred years after his death : the
only one in the Louvre (a St. Francis, as large as life)
is dubious and unworthy of him. In the Florentine
gallery are three pictures: Christ on the Mount of
Olives, one of his best works ; and two Madonnas, with
graceful angels, &c. In the gallery of the Academy
of Arts, in the same city, are more than twenty small
pictures (the best works of Giotto are on a small scale
—these measure about a foot in height) : two of the
same series are at Berlin, all representing subjects
from the life and acts of Christ, of the Virgin, or St.
Francis. Those who are curious may consult the en-
gravings after Giotto in the plates to the * Storia della
Piltura ' of Rosini ; in those of D' Agincourf s * His-
toire de TArt par les Monumens;' and in Ottley's
4 Early Italian School,' a copy of which is in the
British Museum.

[To bo continued ]

FLOATING AND FLYING BRIDGES.

[Concluded from page 112]

A mors perfect arrangement than the bateaux is
that of pontoons, adapted more or less by European
armies generally. A pontoon is a kind of low flat
vessel, somewhat resembling a lighter or barge, formed
of a wooden frame-work, and either lined inside and
out with tin plates, or on the outside only with copper
plates. There arc two sizes employed, the one measur-
ing about twenty-one feet long by five wide, and the
other seventeen feet long by four wide. These pon-
toons are to act as substitutes for boats in building a
bridge of boats, or a •• pontoon-bridge," and are carried
with an army as part of its stores, when likely to be
necessary. Each pontoon is carried on a distinct
wheel-carriage formed for its reception ; and with
each one are stowed away all the materials for one
portion of the bridge : so that a pontoon train con-
sists not only of the pontoons, but of all the materials
required for the bridge. A large pontoon, with its
carriage appurtenances, weighs nearly two tons, and
is drawn by six horses. A ^pontoon-train consists of *
number supposed to be sufficient for the widest river
the army will have to cross: it consists of thirty-six
pontoons, which, with all the stores requisite for the
operations, occupy fifty-six carriages, drawn by three
hundred and sixteen horses. Each pontoon carries (or
rather has belonging to it) beamB, flooring-boards,
gang-boards, oars, bolts, an anchor, a grapnel, a cable,
a smaller rope, a boat-hook, and a few other stores ;
and the use of these may be simply explained as
follows : — In building a pontoon-bridge, the pontoons
are ranged across the river in a parallel series, and
fastened either by a rope passing from shore to shore,
or else by anchors, one to each pontoon. The intervals
between the pontoons are rather greater than the
width of the pontoons themselves. Strong beams,
called « baulks/ are laid from one pontoon to another,
and securely fastened. On these are laid portions of
flooring called * chesses,' each chess consisting of
boards joined together by wooden bars ; and when
these chesses are laid from end to end of the line, they
form the flooring of a bridge over which infantry,
cavalry, and artillery may pass. The army having
passed, the bridge is taken to pieces, and all the pon-
toons, witli their respective portions of the stores, &c.,
are hoisted upon tneir carriages, again to be dis-
mounted when a second occasion may require.

We may next allude to those temporary bridges in
which, instead of a flooring being established from
bank to bank of a river, there is only a portion of a
bridge, which receives its cargo on one shore, and then
travels over to the other.

The contrivance known in military engineering by
the name of a « flying-bridge* is formed by enclosing
a floating body in a river so as to receive the action of
the stream obiiqucly ; by which a force is derived from
the current, to move the vessel across the river. The
kind of movement obtained is very singular, and de-
pends on the following principle : — if a boat, or any-
other floating body whose length greatly exceeds its
breadth, be kept obliquely across a stream by a helm
or any similar contrivance, and exposed to the natural
action of the stream, the current will, by acting on
the broadside more powerfully than on either end,
drive it diagonally, so that while it descends the stream
it is also driven towards one bank. Now the object of
a flying-bridge is, to obtain the transverse movement,
that is, the motion across the stream, and yet prevent
the boat from descending the stream. To effect this,
an anchor is firmly imbedded in the river, at some dis-
tance above the line of intended passage ; and to this
anchor a cable is attached, whose other end is fastened

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to the boat or vessel ; the intermediate portion of the
cable being held up out of the water by being sup-
ported by smaller boats. The cable thus becomes tne
radius of a circular arc, which measures the greatest
distance that can intervene between the anchor and the
boat. Supposing the boat to be left now to itself, the
course of the current would bring it to the middle of
the stream, with its length in the direction of the
stream. But if the boat be kept with its length mak-
ing an angle with the stream (the best angle has been
proved to be 54° 44'). the current will drive it over
from one bank to the other, in a circular arc, of which
the length of the cable is the radius. The current,
unable to drive the boat down the stream by reason of
the cable, is yet able to urge it across the stream, by
virtue of its pressure against the oblique side of the
boat. The boat effects one half of the passage in a de-
scending arc (with the current), and the other arc in an
ascending arc ; and as the latter is obviously the most
unfavourable, the ascent is rendered less considerable
by having a longer cable, and consequently a flatter
curve of transit. Sometimes two anchors are used at
different parts of the river's width ; and the boat is so
managed that one half of the transit is made with the
agency of one anchor, and the other half with that of
the other ; and in such a case the boat describes two
curves in its passage instead of one.

We have spoken of a boat, for convenience of de-
scription ; but the floating body thus driven across the
river is generally a platform, supported by boats un-
derneath, and capable of carrying a large body of men.
A flying-bridge for the passage of a considerable river,
such as the Rhine or the Danube, consists of a scaffold-
ing or frame-work placed on two long, narrow, and
deep boats or barges. The boats are placed side by
side, with as great a distance between them as the
strength of the structure will allow. Beams of Btout
timber are bolted down to the edges of the boats, and
on the beams a stout flooring is laid. A draw-bridge
or lifting-bridge is attached to each side of the platform,
as a means of affording convenient ingress and egress
to the passengers. Each boat is provided with a strong
mast, twenty or thirty feet hi$h, to which is to be at-
tached the cable. Each boat is provided with a rudder,
and both rudders are so connected that one person can
manage them.

Two Thames barges fitted up in this manner would
carry a platform or flooring fifty feet square, on which
six hundred and fifty men might stand, and thus be
conveyed across a river. Sometimes a stage of two
stories has been erected in two boats, by which from
fourteen to fifteen hundred men have been carried at
once. A flying-bridge of this kind was constructed at
Hunnengen, during one of the wars of the last century,
in which a hundred and forty cavalry, with their horses
and equipments, found room on the stage or platform ;
while five hundred infantry occupied the boats under-
neath. The length of the cable was three hundred
toises, supported by ten boats, and fixed to a range of
piles instead of anchors.

Another variety of flying-bridge is that in which,
while the obliquity of the boat's direction is the primary
cause of the movement across the stream, the boat is
prevented from descending the river by a rope stretched
across from shore to shore, instead of by a cable fixed to
an anchor in the stream. 1 1 is generally when a river is
too wide for the adoption of the former plan that re-
course is had to the latter. A rope, called in sea-lan-
guage a • warp/ is stretched across the river, and is
upheld in its medium parts by one or more buoys.
Tne rope guides the boat while cheering' — a sea-
term for the motion of a boat across a stream by the
oblique action of the current.

Sir II. Douglas describes a flying-bridge of this kind

as having been established across the Thames at
Gravesend. The period was during the threat of in-
vasion, when it was of great importance to have a well-
established military communication between Gravesend
and Tilbury Fort, without interrupting the navigation
of the river. There were two warps, one for passing
from Tilbury Fort to Gravesend, and the other for the
return course. Each warp (consisting of five-inch cable)
was four hundred and eighty fathoms in length, with
fifty additional fathoms of spare warp ready for use.
Each warp was kept nearly stationary at two points in
the width of the river, by means of fourteen-inch
cables, each cable attached to two anchors; so that
each warp was retained by four anchors weighing about
a ton each. The vessels employed were large barges,
capable of containing a great number of troops ; and
each barge was attached to a warp in such a manner as
to be able to move ; while the direction of the barge
with respect to the stream was regulated by a rudder.
At the time when these plans were adopted, steam-
boats were unknown ; but it is probable that in the
present day, and in such a spot, a steam-ferry would
be adopted in preference to the * warping.'

The harbours at Plymouth and Portsmouth display
at the present day very remarkable examples of the
flying-bridge moved by steam — or of steam floatin^-
bridgeB, to use a better term. Contrivances of this
kind are now working across Portsmouth harbour,
from Portsmouth to Gosport, and across the Hamoaze,
or Plymouth harbour, from Devonport to Torpoint.
The principle is the same in both, and we will there-
fore speak only of that belonging to Plymouth, which
preceded the other in point of time.

The Hamoaze at Torpoint is nearly half a mile wide
at high-water, with a maximum depth of about a hun-
dred feet. About fifty years ago, wnen the traffic from
the Devonshire coast to the Cornish coast across the
Hamoaze began to be considerable, the Earl of Mount
Edgcumbe and Mr. Carew obtained an act of parlia-
ment authorizing them to establish a ferry at this
spot. This ferry proved convenient to the inhabitants
and profitable to the owners, till the year 1825 ; when,
to meet the increasing demands of the public, a com-
pany took a lease of the ferry for twenty-one years,
and endeavoured to establish a * twin steam-boat,' such
as had shortly before been established at Dundee. The
strength of the current was found to be too great to
allow the boat to travel directly across the river with
sufficient certainty for the purposes of traffic, and the
experiment subsequently failed.

Mr. Rendel, a civil engineer, was then applied tc
for an investigation into the practicability of eonstruc-
ing a floating-bridge, which, while moved by the power
of steam, should at the same time be protected from
the strength of the current. From this investigation
resulted the very ingenious and efficient floating-
bridge now plying in the Hamoaze, and which Mr.
Rendel himself has minutely described in a paper
addressed to the Institute of Civil Engineers. We
will briefly describe the bridge itself, and then the
mode of propulsion.

The bridge is a kind of lar^e flat-bottomed vessel,
nearly as wide as it is long, being fifty-five feet long
by forty-five wide. It is divided lengthwise into three
portions, the centre of which contains the machinery
by which it is worked, while the sides form two plat-
forms on which the passengers and carriages are placed.
At each end of each of these side platforms is attached
a strong and commodious drawbridge, hung on
hinges, wjiich can be let down so that its extreme end
may rest on the beach or shore, and thus form a con-
venient passage for passengers, horses, and carriages
to or from the beach and the vessel. The side plat-
forms are eleven feet in width, and the middle divi-

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sion of the bridge contains one or two moderate-sized
cabins.

The next point is, to explain how this singular-
shaped structure is propelled. This is done by the aid
of two strong chains, stretched side by side across the
river, from one bank to the other. The length and
weight of the chains are such that each chain, when
the bridge is at one shore, lies along the bottom of the
stream ; and when the bridge is in the middle of its
course the chain makes two curves, one between it
and either shore. The chains are not permanently
Hxcd at the ends, but are balanced by very heavy
weights, so as to enable them to yield in a slight
degree to any strain to which they might be exposed.
The bridge or vessel is so connected with these two
chains, that it cannot drift beyond the limits to which
they extend ; it cannot go farther northward than the
northern chain shifts, nor farther southward than the
southern chain ; and as the chains are limited in their
lateral deviation by the weights at their two ends, the
bridge is rendered nearly independent of tho current.

But the chains do more than guide the bridge on its
passage ; the links, by a very curious arrangement, are
made to supply the place of paddles. In the middle
of the vessel is a steam-engine, whose power is exerted
in causing the rotation of two vertical wheels seven
or eight feet in diameter. Those wheels are parallel,
about eleven feet apart, and lie in the direction of the
length of the bridge. Hound the periphery of each
wheel is a series of cogs or knobs, exactly as far apart
as the links of the great chains. The chains pass up-
wards from the water into one end of the bridge, over
the cogs of the wheels, and down into the water again
at the other end of the bridge ; the cogs striking or
catching into the links of the chain. Now when the
wheels are made to rotate by the engine, as the cogs
on the periphery cannot escape from the chain, one of
two effects must result : cither the chain must move
on while the bridge stands still, or the bridge must
move while the chain is stationary. The chain cannot
move in the direction of its length, for it is fastened at
each end ; and therefore the bridge becomes propelled.
The wheels rotate, and the cogs catch successively in
all the links of the chain, thus causing the whole ma-
chine to be forcibly drawn onwards. By reversing the
direction in which the wheels rotate, the vessel's direc-
tion of motion is changed also.

According to the power of the engine, so will the
rapidity of the motion be regulated. Mr. Rendel
states the velocity obtained in practice to be three
hundred and twenty feet per minute, which gives about
seven minutes and a half for the time of crossing the
Hamoaze. Mail and stage coaches pass on to the
bridge, just as if it were a common road, without dis-
turbance to the passengers; and are then conveyed
across. Mr. Rendel says that he has seen at one time
on the bridge three four-horse carriages, one with two
horses, seven saddle-horses, and sixty foot-passengers.

The chains of the bridge are sufficiently loose to dip
deeply in the water, as a means of allowing the ships
of war, many of which are kept on either side of the
line of passage, to pass safely over them. The main-
tenance of this clear passage for the royal shipping
was one of the difficulties with which the engineer
had to contend; but it appears to have been successfully
accomplished. There have been two of these bridges
built, one for use while the other is under repair ; and
the two, with the whole of the arrangements pertain-
ing to them, cost about 9000/. The bridge crosses the
channel four times every hour, on an average of fifteen
hours a day.

Mr. Rendel gives an anecdote which illustrates
most remarkably the strength which it has been found
practicable to give to this structure. " The ship-

wright who built the bridge, being desirous of exhibit-
ing so great a novelty, invited a party of friends to
witness the launch, which went oft' with great spirit
and more wine than was sufficient for the christening.
The wine in this, as in many other oases, caused its
votaries to be altogether oblivious of such unimportant
matters as time and tide, which, as they * wait for no
man,' so in this instance they ebbed faster than was
perceived. It was the business of the builder to place
the bridge in the basin of the new Victualling Yard,
but a short distance from where the bridge was
launched. With proper caution, the width of the en-
trance had been measured, and found sufficient for
the bridge, but the measurement was taken at high-
water. The batter (slope) of the pier heads of course?
narrowed the width of the entrance as the tide ebbed,
so tliat when the bridge was brought to the basin the
entrance was found just too narrow, and being caught
ou a rapidly falling tide, the bridge was literally
suspended between heaven and earth for eight or ten
hours till the return tide !" Not a bolt, or timber, or
plank started under this severe ordeal.

Co-operative Labour atnonget SmaU Proprietor* in Switzerland.
— The properties are too small, iu general, to keep more than
five or six cows all winter, and few can keep more than half that
number. Vet these small proprietors contrive to tend cheeses to
market as large as our Cheshire dairy-farmers, with their dairy-
stocks of forty or lifty cows, and farms rented at 200/. to 300/.
a year. Gruydre and Parmesan cheeses are quite as large as
Cheshire cheeses; and, as the price shows, are incomparably
better in quality. They are made by small farmers, each uf
whom has not, on an average, the milk of half-a-dozen cows to
make cheeses of. Rath parish in Switzerland hires a man, ge-
nerally from the district of (iruyere, to take care of the herd and
make the cheese j and, if the man comes from Gruyere, all that
he makes is called Gruyere cheese, although made far enough
from Gruyere. One cheeseman, one pressman or assistant, and
one cowherd, are considered necessary for every forty cows. The
owners of the cows get credit, each of them, in a book daily, for
the quantity of milk given by each cow. The cheeseman and
his assistants milk the cows, put the milk all together, and make
cheese of it ; and at the end of the season each owner receives
the weight of cheese proportionable to the quantity of milk his
cows have delivered. By this co-operative plan, instead of the
small-sized, unmarketable cheeses only, which each could pro-
duce out of his three or four cows' milk, he ha3 the some weight
iu large marketable cheese, superior in quality, because made by
people who attend to no other business. The cheeseman and his
assistants are paid so much per head of the cows, in money or in
cheese ; or sometimes they hire the cows, and pay the owners in
money or cheese. — Mr. Laing't Note* of a Traveller,

The Partial and the Comprehensive. — A Hindustan* Parable,
— In a certain country there existed a village of blind men, who
had heard of an amazing animal called the elephant, of the
shape of which, however, they could procure no idea. One day an
elephant passed through the place : the villagers crowded to the
spot where the animal was standing, and one of them seized his
trunk, another his ear, another his tail, another one of his legs.
After thus endeavouring to gratify their curiosity, they returned
into the village, and, sitting down together, began to communi-
cate their ideas on the shape of the elephant to the villagers : the
man who had seized his trunk said he thought this animal must
be like the body of the plantain-tree ; he who had touched his
ear was of opinion that was like the winno wing-fan ; the man
who bad laid hold of his tail said he thought he must resemble
a snake ; and he who had caught his leg declared be must be
like a pillar. An old blind man of some judgment was present,
who, though greatly perplexed in attempting to reconcile these
jarring notions, at length said — u You have all been to examine
the animal, and what you report, therefore, cannot be false : I
suppose, then, that the part resembling the plantain-tree must be
his trunk ; what you thought similar to a fan must be his ear ;
the part like a snake must be the tail ; and that like a pillar
must be his leg." In this way the old man, uniting all their
conjectures, made out something of the form of the elephant.—
Rev. W. Ward's lAttrature, Hittury, $*c. of the Hindoos.

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[The exterior of the Tumj/W Church, from the Souili.]

THE TEMPLE CHURCH.

If one had never heard of the existence of such a
Society as the Templars — a band of men who sought to
be as conspicuous for their piety as for their military
skill and courage, and who made it the business of
iheir lives to reconcile the two pursuits— it would be
still difficult to look on the exterior of the structure,
which has been recently restored, without some sucli
idea occurring to the mind. In the massive Round,
with its buttresses and narrow windows, we are
inevitably reminded of the strong circular keep or
stronghold of the castles of the middle ages ; whilst the
junction of the oblong portion, built in the purest and
most beautiful of the early English Ecclesiastical
styles, at the same time tells plainly enough that no
mere warriors erected the whole. And the interest
likely to be aroused by such associations is only the
more deepened when we inquire into the history of
the Order: when we read of Hugh de Payens with
only eight companions devoting themselves, as "poor
fellow- soldiers of Jesus Christ,'' to the defence of the
pilgrims on the high road to Jerusalem, recently forced
from the Saracens by the early Crusaders, and learn
that from this humble origin sprung the mighty fellow-
ship, which extended its ramifications through every
country of Christian Europe, which comprised a large
portion of the noblest in blood, and most influential
in wealth and power, of European chivalry ; when we
read also of the poverty — Hugh de Payens and another
knight riding on one horse for instance — the humility
and self-sacrifices to which they at first voluntarily sub-
mitted themselves, of their heroism in active warfare
as well as in passive endurance, of their decline and
fall as they grew prosperous and corrupt, and then of
the sudden restoration of the old spirit in the purifying
flames of the horrible death to which many of the most
illustrious members were subjected at the period of the
extinction of the Order, by the rapacious monarchs of
Europe thirsting for their enormous wealth ; when we
read of these things, we might naturally suppose that it

would be difficult to find any other circumstances that
could materially enhance in our eyes the chief of the
structures built by these men in our country. And
had the Temple Church, as wc have always hitherto
seen it, been in the state the Templars had left it, no
doubt the feeling would have been a correct one ; but
we now know that, with the exception of the bare out-
line of the walls, pillars, and windows, no building
could be less like the church of the Knights Templars
than the Temple Church ; and the great charm and
value of the recent works in this now most beautiful of
English buildings, is that they are all strictly works of
restoration. In looking at the decorations, so novel to
our eyes, and in such a place so opposed to our ordinary
ideas of fitness, as well as at the great expenditure
incurred, this fact must be constantly borne in mind.
That it is a fact we shall have various opportunities of
noticing in the progress of our paper.

To the lovers of Gothic architecture, a designation
that promises shortly to be synonymous in effect with
persons of taste and intelligence generally, (already the
notion of the irregular genius of the style has shared
the fate of the somewhat similar notion concerning our
great dramatic poet) — to such persons the Temple offers
an additional feature of interest and instruction, being
looked upon by architects as the most interesting ex-
ample we possess of the transition from the plain mas
sive Norman to the light and elegant early English.
Thus we have before us the Round with its semicircu-
lar bended windows, Norman, but Norman in the
last stage of the change to something else — already
grown slender and elongated ; and wc have the oblong
with its pointed windows, the very perfection of what
is called the lancet style. But to return to matters of
more general interest : the period of the erection of
the edifice is from sonic little time prior to 1185. when
the Round was dedicated, in honour of the Virgin
Mary, by Heraclius, patriarch of Jerusalem, up to 1240,
when the oblong was consecrated on Ascension-day.
The Templars had before this a hou?e on the site of
the present Southampton Buildings, Holborn. Hera-

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clius was in England on business of a very critical
nature at the time of the dedication. In a battle on
the banks of the Jordan, in 1 179, the great body of
Knights Templars had been nearly cut to pieces by
Saladin, and the grand-master taken prisoner, to perish
in prison by his own firmness or obstinacy, in resisting
all overtures for exchange or ransom. The Christian
armies, however, so far redeemed themselves from the
temporary disgrace of this defeat, as to be able to
obtain a truce for four years, whilst they sent Heraclius
and the masters of the Temple, and the kindred society
of the Hospitallers, through Europe to seek fresh aid.
They in particular hoped much from Henry II. of
England ; so much, indeed, that when the king and
his chief nobility offered to raise fifty thousand marks
for the purpose of paying the expenses of a levy of
troops, and to agree that all persons who pleased
might engage in the cause, the patriarch seems to
have been at once deeply disappointed and indignant
*• We seek a man, ana not money," was his reply ;
"well near every Christian region sendeth unto us
money, but no land sendeth to us a Prince :" and de-
parting in this state of dissatisfaction, Henry, who had
reason to dread the power of the Church, remembering
the affair of Beckett, followed him to the seaside, in
order to appease his anger. " But," continues Fab y an,
" the more the king thought to satisfy him with his fair
speech, the more the patriarch i|as discontented, inso-
much that, at the last, he saicP unto him, * Hitherto
thou hast reigned gloriously, but hereafter thou shalt
be forsaken ot Him whom thou at this time forsakest.
Think on Him, what he hath given to thee, and what
thou hast yielded to Him again ; how first thou wert
false unto the king of France, and after slew that holy
man Thomas of Canterbury, and, lastly, thou forsakest
the protection of Christian faith/ The king was moved
with these words, and said unto the patriarch, * Though
all the men of my land were one body, and spake with
one mouth, they durst not speak to me such words.*
1 No wonder,' said the patriarch, * for they love thine,
and not thee: that is to mean, they love thy goods
temporal, and fear thee for loss of promotion, but they
love not thy soul.' And when he had so said he offered
his hand to the king, saying, * Do by me right as thou
didst by that blessed man Thomas ot Canterbury, for I
had liever to be slain of thee than of the Saracens, for
thou art worse than any Saracen.' " But Henry, how-
ever inly exasperated, was determined not to edify his
subjects by another kingly scourging, so answered
patiently, " I may not wend out of my land, for my
own sons will arise against me when I am absent.
Somewhat irreverently the patriarch closed the con-
ference by remarking, " No wonder, for of the devil
they come, and to the devil they shall go ;" and so
hurried away. Such were the circumstances connected
with the dedication of the Temple in 1185.

In our walk round the exterior we are reminded of
an interesting chapel formerly attached to its south
side ; the chapel of St. Anne, where the solemn cere-
mony of introducing new members into the Order took
place. The rules of the Templars, which were very
strict, were from the hand ot St. Bernard, who at
an early period of their career treated them with
marked consideration. The new member having sa-
tisfactorily answered in private to the questions put to
him, affirming that he was free from all obligations,
such as betrothal, marriage vows, or consecration
in connection with any other order, debt, disease, or
weakly constitution, was ushered into the chapel,
where he found present the entire body of knights.
With folded hands and bended knees, he then said
to the master: "Sir, I am come, before God and
before you and the brethren, and pray and beseech
you, for the sake of God and our dear Lady, to admit

me into your Society, and the good deeds of the Order*
as one who will be all his lite long the 6civaut and
slave of the Order." In answer he was warned,
that he was desirous of a great matter ; that he saw
nothing but the shell, the fine horses and rich capa-
risons, the luxurious fare, and splendid clothing ; but
that he knew not the rigour which lay within. He
was told it was a hard matter for him, his own master,
to become another's servant ; to watch when he wished
to sleep, and find his most ordinary actions similarly
controlled. The candidate, however, answering firmly
to all the questions that followed, and binding himself
to be obedient to the master of tiie house, as well as to
the master of the order generally, to observe the usual
customs, to live chastely, and help with all the powers
God had given him to conquer the Holy Land, and to
befriend all oppressed Christians, was received into
the coveted brotherhood, and whilst he was assured of
bread and water, clothing, and ** labour and toil enow,"
the Templar's habit was put on his limbs, and he too
was a Knight Templar. The building in which these
interesting scenes occurred appears to have consisted
of two stories, each with a separate entrance from the
church, each with a groined and vaulted roof, and
each divided near the centre by a massive and no
doubt very elegant archway. A portion of the build-
ing fell in 1825, and during the repairs, commenced
about that time, of the Round, the whole was swept
away. Such, we are glad to say, is not the spirit in
which the late extensive reparations have been carried
on. With a few words on this subject, by way of pre-
liminary to the splendid scene that awaits us in the
interior, we conclude the present paper. From the
time of the Puritans down to the very act we have last
alluded to, the removal of the chapel of St. Anne, the
Temple church seems to have been undergoing one
steady process of degradation or mutilation in all that
respects its original beauty or completeness ; and it
would be difficult to say which have done the most
injury, the early church reformers who damaged it on
principle, or the kind benefactors of the seventeenth
and eighteenth centuries, who repaired and beautified
it, making a very labour of love of the display of their
bad taste. Thus in 1682 a screen of " light wainscot "
was stretched across the space between the two parts
of the structure, cutting them asunder, and destroying
at once all sense of harmony, or size, or fine per-
spective. This screen, by way of refresher to eyes
wearied with the eternal Gothic stamped on the build-
ing around, was decorated with Corinthian pilasters
and other suitable appendages. And that there might
be no stealing a glimpse over the screen through the
great central archway, a new organ was placed in that
spot, with its classic front reaching nearly to the
groined ceiling of the nave. There only remained to
close up or to hide the form of the beautiful lesser
arches on each side, which was carefully done, and to
put in glass doors and windows in the lower portions
of all the arches ; and that too accomplished, no doubt
the worthy benchers smirked, and smiled, and con-
gratulated themselves, as they stepped backwards and
forwards, painter-fashion, some such exclamation no
doubt escaping at intervals, as M Come, I think that's
very nice and snug." But there was yet much to be
done to bring everything into perfect order. The
marble pillars looked bluish and cold, and the roof
looked hollow and high, and the tessellated pavement
felt uncomfortable, and the walls were sadly naked.
So to work once more went the beau ti tiers : the pave-
ment was raised up by a good layer of earth, some
more " light wainscot " was obtained, and placed all
round the walls, the pillars were cased a good way
up in the same material, and the rest did not much
matter, as thev were there stuck over pretty thickly with

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127

tablets, or concealed by large gilded monuments : the
church was also well paved ; and, as a finish, the whole,
pillars, capitals, cornices, roof, groins, and wall, were
plastered and whitewashed. Add to these features of
the Temple Church as it was, the cumbrous pulpit
with carved chcrubims, and vases, and a still more
cumbrous sounding-board — add also the altar-pieces,
an immense work in the same Corinthian style, ac-
tually concealing no inconsiderable portion of the
great eastern window, as the monuments along the
sides entrenched upon the windows of the aisles— and
we must acknowledge that the said beautifiers did not
work by halves— that, in short, they made everything
so very complete in one way, that it is only surprising
their successors should have ventured to undo the
whole, in order to try their hands at another. And
though they did venture, and with a result that forms
probably the commencement of a new era in the re-
storation of our old buildings, as well as in the deco-
ration of all, there were not wanting persons to warn
them of the reckless course they proposed to pursue.
" As a proof,'* pays Mr. Burge,* " now little the public
were acquainted with the character of the T«mple
Church, and with those parts of its style and con-
struction which constituted its beauty, it may be men-
tioned, that when the restoration was commenced in
1840, the removal of these beautifications and adorn-
ments for the purpose of effecting the restoration was
regarded and publicly reprobated as an act of van-
dalism, evincing an utter disregard for the ancient
and original beauty of the church, and a fond devotion
to the frivolous and degraded styles of modern archi-
tecture." It were not without interest to follow the
successive steps of the restoration to see how the re-
covery of one beauty led to that of another ; the re-
moval of the screen to the removal of the organ ; that
of the great pews to that of the pulpit ; or to see how
the removal of the whitewash above and the rubbish
below, and consequent discovery of the remains of the
original decoration, led to the revival of such deco-
rations in the sumptuous roof, and windows, and pave-
ment, that now meet the eye ; but our space will only
allow us to notice the result of the whole as exem-
plified in the magnificent interior, towards which we
now advance.

[To be continued.]

ON PRETERNATURAL RAINS.
Though the world talks of the skies •' raining cats
and dogs," yet this is evidently regarded merely as
a pleasantry, not likely to be disturbed by the ful-
filment of the phenomenon. But if we were told
that the skies had " rained fishes," and were to regard
that as equally a joke, it might be found that incre-
dulity proceeded in this case a little too far. The
recorded instances bearing on this point are too
numerous, and too well authenticated, to be disbelieved
or slighted.

The phrase "raining fishes" is merely indicative of
the popular notion entertained respecting the pheno-
menon in India, where it occurs very frequently ; the
facts themselves maybe recorded without the neces-
sity for assent to so startling an idea as the precipita-
tion of fishes from the clouds. All that is meant to be
conveyed by the expression is, that fishes are found
to fall on dry land, under peculiar states of the
weather.

Newspapers and periodicals published in India
frequently contain notices of these falls of fish ; and
one gentleman, writing on the subject, says : — " I was
as incredulous as my neighbours, until I once found
a small fish, which had apparently been alive when it
* 'The Temple Church.'

fell in the brass funnel of my pluviometer at Benares,
which stood on an insulated stone pillar, raised five
feet above the ground in my garden." Another gen-
tleman, writing in September, 1839, and in relation to
a spot about twenty miles south of Calcutta, states : —
"About 2 o'clock p.m. of the 20th inst. we had a
very smart shower of rain, and with it descended a
quantity of live fish, about three inches in length, and
all of one kind only. They fell in a straight line on
the road from my house to the tank, which is about
forty or fifty yards distant. Those which fell on the
hard ground were as a matter of course killed from
the fall ; but those which fell where there was grass
sustained no injury ; and I picked up a large quantity
of them « alive and kicking,' and let them go into my
tank. . . . The most strange thing that ever struck me,
in connection with this event, was, that the fish did
not fall helter-skelter, everywhere, or ' here and there ;'
but they fell in a straight line, not more than a cubit
in breadth." The explanation which this gentleman
deems most probable, is one to which we shall allude
farther on.

Another example is stated to have taken place near
Allahabad. About noon, on a particular day in the
month of May, the wind being from the west, and a
few distant clouds visible, a blast of high wind came
on, accompanied with so much dust as to change the
tint of the atmosphere to a reddish hue. The blast
appeared to extend in breadth four hundred yards,
and was so violent that many large trees were blown
down. When the storm had passed over, the ground,
south of the village where the observation was made,
was found to be covered with fish, not less than three
or four thousand in number. The fish were all about
a span in length, and of a species well known in
India. When found they were all dead and dry.

A lady residing at Moradabad, in a letter to a friend
in England, in 1829, gives an account of a number of
fish that had fallen in a shower at that place ; many of
these were observed springing about upon the grass in
front of the house, immediately after the storm. The
letter (which was read before the Linnaean Society)
was accompanied by a drawing of one of the fish, taken
from life at the moment: it was a small species of
cyprintts, two inches and a quarter long, green above,
silvery white below, with broad, lateral, bright red
lines.

In our own land there are not wanting instances
bearing on this point ; and it is probable that these
accounts have been extensively disbelieved, as much
on account of their rarity as of their apparent mar-
vellousness. The following narration, while it indi-
cates what was in all probability a fact, includes an
hypothesis which does not necessarily belong to it, and
which may have interfered with the reception of the
narration itself* it is from Hasted's * History of Kent/
" About Easter, 1666, in the parish of Stanstead, which
is a considerable distance from the sea or any branch
of it, and a place where there are no fish-ponds, and
rather a scarcity of water, a pasture-field was scat-
tered all over with small fish, in quantity about a
bushel, supposed to have been rained down from a
cloud, there having been at the time a great tempest
of thunder, rain, and wind. The fish were about the
size of a man's little finger. Some were like small,
whitings, others like sprats ; and some smaller, like
smelts. Several of these fish were sold publicly at
Maidstone and Dartford." The hypothesis here is
evidently that the fish ;had been " rained down from
a cloud ;" one which certainly taxes the powers of
belief.

In the year 1830 the following appeared in a local
Scotch newspaper :— " On the 9th of March, 1830, the
inhabitants of the island of Ula, in Argyllshire, after a

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day of very Hard rain, were surprised to find numbers
of small herrings strewed over the ^fields, perfectly
fresh, and some of them exhibiting signs of life."

Now all these accounts become explicable if we
presuppose the occurrence of a violent storm of wind ;
and it is observable that nearly all tl>c accounts agree
in stating that high and strong wind accompanied or
preceded the phenomenon noticed. A very violent
wind, driving obliquely over the surface of a river, may
be able to carry along with it the smaller and lighter
fish swimming near the surface (and they are all*/;ia//
which are said to fall " with rain *), leaving the heavier
ones behind, and depositing the lighter ones on dry
land, as soon as the force of the blast becomes propor-
tionably less than the weight of tho fish. A writer on
this subject in Reess •Cyclopaedia* says:— "The
raining of fishes has been a prodigy much talked of in
France, where the streets of a town at some distance
from Paris, after a terrible hurricane in the night,
which tore up trees, blew down houses, &c., were
found in a manner covered with fishes of various sizes.
Nobody here made any doubt of these having fallen
from tne clouds ; nor did the absurdity of fish of five
or six inches long being generated in the air at all
startle the people, or shake their belief in the miracle,
till they found upon inquiry, that a very well-stocked
fish-pond, which stood on an eminence in the neigh-
bourhood, had been blown dry by the hurricane, and
only the great fish left at the bottom of it, all the
smaller fry having been tossed into the streets."

It is probable that this last example would be found
illustrative of a large proportion of the cases recorded ;
since it is not necessary to the truth of the accounts
that the fish should have fallen near a pond or stream.
A high wind may at the same time be so fierce and so
long continued as to carry the fish or any other bodies
wafted with it to a great distance. A curious instance
has been recorded by Mr. Fairholme, who wrote on
this subject in the * Asiatic Journal ;' which, though not
relating immediately to fish, will show how articles
may be suspended for a time in the air by the action of
the wind : — " I remember on one occasion, in the midst
of the most perfect tranquillity, and in a very sheltered
garden in the south of Scotland, seeing a quantity of
clothes, which had been spread to dry on a smooth bowl-
ing-green, suddenly thrown into the utmost confusion,
and some of the articles carried up into the air so high
as to be nearly lost to view. They were watched by
myself and others for upwards of half an hour, and
were found next day at a distance of three miles."

This example will serve to illustrate not so much
the effect of a direct and rushing wind, as another wind
to which these results have also been referred, viz. a
whirlwind. These extraordinary phenomena, occa-
sioned probably by sudden irregularities in the tempe-
rature and electrical condition of the air, manifest them-
selves in a violent spiral aerial current, whirling up-
wards with great rapidity, and carrying up within their
vortex any small or light bodies which may be within
their circuit. If this should occur at sea, an immense
volume of water is carried up at the same time, forming
what is called a water-spout ; and it is unquestionable
that if water can be thus drawn up, small fishes may
be similarly affected. If the spiral current of air,
whether including water within it or not, remain sta-
tionary above the spot where it was formed, then what-
ever was drawn up with it will after a time be preci-
pitated nearly to the same point as that from wnence
it was taken ; but if the whirlwind or water-spout itself
moves onward, then the contained matters will be car-
ried with it, until the force of the blast dies away, and
the substances are precipitated to the ground simply by
their own gravity. Whirlwinds of this kind are very
common in India; and it seems consistent with all the

details hitherto recorded, that when fishes, either alive
or dead, are seen to fall to the ground, they have been
wafted from some sea, lake, river, or pona, by one of
these two agencies — either a powerful wind, which
by sheer force drove the fisTi out of their watery ele-
ment ; or by a whirlwind, which drew the water and the
fish upward in its vortex by a species of suction, and
then wafted them to a considerable distance before pre-
cipitation.

The lovers of the marvellous are wont to talk of the
raining of frogs, the raining of stones, the raining of
blood, and many other astounding matters of a similar
kind ; but, as may be well supposed, the details admit
of interpretation very different from the popular one.
Swammerdam relates the following circumstance as
having occurred at the Hague in KtfO : — " One morn-
ing the whole town was in an uproar on finding their
lakes and ditches full of a red liquid, which was with
the common consent of the vulgar believed to be blood.
The lakes were known to be full of water the night be-
fore ; and it was therefore deemed a logical inference
that there must have been a shower of blood during
the night. A physician, however, went down to one
of the ditches, and took home from thence a quantity
of this blood-coloured liquid: he examined it by the
microscope, and found that the water was water still,
and had not at all changed its colour; but that it
swarmed with a prodigious number of small red ani-
mals, all alive, and very nimble in their motions, whose
colour and number gave a red tinge to the whole body
of the water they lived in, when viewed from a distance.
The certainty* however, that this was the case did not
persuade the Hollanders to renounce the marvel : they
came to the conclusion that the sudden appearance of
such a number of animals was as great a prodigy as the
raining of blood would have been ; and for generations
afterwards it was regarded as a portent and foretelling
of the scene of war and devastation brought about in
Holland by Louis XIV."

The appearance of the insects in such numbers is
accounted for thus (for as no one appears to have as-
serted that he saw blood-coloured liquid fall from the
clouds, we are spared the necessity of any further ex-
planation) : these little animals arc the pulices arbo-
rescentes of Swamincrdam, or the water-fleas with
branched horns. These creatures arc of a reddish-
yellow or flame colour. They live about the sides of
ditches, under weeds, and among the mud, and are
therefore not generally very visible. At about the end
of May and the beginning of June, however, these
little animals leave their recesses, to float loose about
the water, and by that means become visible by the
colour they impart to the water. It has been remarked
that it is always at this season that the ignorant have
been alarmed by the notion of blood-rain.

High winds, little red insects, and meteorolites will
probably exhaust the list, and explain the causes, of
what are termed M preternatural rains.'*

Vineyard Cultivation, — The vineyard is but a garden. The
hand-labour is incessant in all the different operations; and vet
it is not, like the hand-labour in a garden, applied to but a few
fruit-trees, or plants, or beds, with which you form a kind of
acquaintance that ripens into friendship in the course of years.
The vines are too many, and each too insignificant by itself, for
that kind of pleasure; and the land under vines being always
under vines, you do not get intimate either with the acres or
beds, as in corn and grass husbandry, nor with the individual
plants, as in gardening. Then the eye has nothing agreeable to
dwell upon in the dotty effect of a field of vines, and the ear
misses the rural music of a farm — the crowing of the cock — the
lowing of the cattle — the sound of the flail. It is, in spite of
poetry, a dull manufacture. — Mr* Jjiiwf* NoUt.

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[The Temple Church, from the Entrance Doorway.]

THE TEMPLE CHURCH.

[Continued from page 127.]

A very deeply recessed and sumptuously enriched
Norman gateway leads from the low sunken porch at
the extremity of the western extremity of the building
into the Round, and at once places before us the view
seen above. Among the variety of objects that press
upon the attention k is difficult to fix upon any one.
There are the painted windows at the farthest end,
appearing like some sudden discovery of one of the
richest works of the olden time that we have so often
read of; and the painted roof, scarcely less splendid,
and from its novelty still more interesting : nearer
still there are the three beautiful arches, which rather
connect than divide the two portions of the structure
— the very arches so mercilessly closed up and dis-
figured : whilst around us is the beautiful aisle with
its groined roof, supported at intervals by stately
dark marble pillars, that rise conspicuously from
the arcade of pointed arches decorating the lower
part of the wall ; and, lastly, in the centre, divided
from the aisle by the circle of tall clustered marble
columns that support its lofty roof, is the tower, or
central portion ot the Round, with its series of arch-
ways opening into the gallery, or Triforium ; — its
clerestory, or range of windows, one of them — the
gift of Mr. Willement — painted; and above, the
roof, where the compartments formed by the bold
groining are studded over with delicate blue orna-

no. 707.

ment8 on a kind of drab-like ground; the centre
standing out from all the rest by its richer and more
varied display of colours, surrounding a massive gilded
boss. The painted window mentioned, with its deep
rubies, and purples, and bronzes, represents Christ
enthroned ; and the general design ot the decoration
of the dome is borrowed from an existing ancient Si-
cilian church. Among the features of interest in this
part of the structure are the beads which decorate the
arcade in the aisle, sixty-four in number, and which
were probably intended to represent on one half-circle
—that to the left— a state of purgatory, and on the
other of relief from it, by the mediation of the Church.
But as none of the heads are original, and some of
them not even copies of the original designs, it is not
easy to prove the truth of this hypothesis. But we
perceive, first, that in other parte of the structure—
the entrance archways to the aisles of the oblong — the
opposing character of the two corbel faces in each
arch bears evident reference to an idea of this kind ;
and, secondly, the half-circle that was most carefully
restored— the left or northern — presents but com-
paratively few exceptions to the painful character ex-
pressed by all the heads on that side, and which has
been marked throughout by the nicest discrimination
of the different kinds of manifestation of pain ap-
plicable to so many different classes of individuals.
The philosopher looks as though he would pluck out
the heart of even this mystery ; the satirist or misan-
thrope as though he had as much contempt for pur-

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[April 8

galory as all other things, even while he felt its
power ; on the other hand, where the individuals re-
presented arc less intellectual, and more sensual, the
appropriate expressions are no less strikingly deve-
loped : here, beauty is distorted into a thing it would
tremble but to see ; here one can hardly avoid feeling
the claws and teeth of the animal tearing the ear:
whilst there is one head, combining a mingled sensa-
tion of physical and mental horror which surpasses
description — it is ghastly— fearful!— it is as if all the
worst passions of man's nature had been gathered to-
gether in pne point and then smitten with some in-
tolerable agony. But perhaps the most interesting of
the whole is the last of this circle, a female's face —
probably a mother, who forgets even the anguish of
her own sufferings in the passionate, yet quiet, be-
cause hopeless, misery of reflecting on those she has
left behind. Mixed with the heads we have referred
to are a great variety of grotesques, and the whole are
highly deserving of attention. According to Mr. Ad-
dison, the author of the recent * History of the Knights
Templars,' an sivade and cornice similarly decorated
with heads have been found in the ruins of the Tem-
ple churches at Nice, and in their famous fortress near
Mount Carmel, known as the " Pilgrims' Castle." We
must not omit to add that the original heads, after be-
ing carelessly, because inartistically copied, were used
in the builder's yard to slip beneath cart-wheels occa-
sionally ! And that is but about eighteen years ago.

The pavement of the Temple Church has attracted
much attention, and deservedly. On removing the
rubbish beneath the late pavement, patches of the
former (Jecorated one were found ; and, accordingly,
the Benchers, in pursuance of the rule that has con-
stantly guided them, determined to restore the old en-
caustic tile. And as they had the old quarry at Pur-
beck re-opened purposely for the supply of the right
material for the new pillars which it was found ncces-
saary to have in the Round, so did they seek and ob-
tain permission to have the flooring of the Chapter-
house at Westminster Abbey taken up, to learn the
exact nature of the decorations used at the period in
question, and then made arrangements to nave the
tiles manufactured accordingly in Staffordshire. The
prevailing colour is yellow or amber, forming the de-
corative parts, upon a dark red ground. The decora-
tions combine a great variety of heraldic and pictorial
subjects, as animals with their tails linked together,
cocks and foxes, figures playing upon musical instru-
ments ; but the chief ornaments are the symbols of the
two Societies of the Temple, the Lamb and the Pe-
gasus : the former founded on the device of St. John ;
and the latter, it is supposed, from the interesting cir-
cumstance before mentioned concerning the founder
of the Order, and the poverty which for a time pre-
vailed among the templars. Mr. Willement, in his
'Report to the Societies on the subject of the Decora-
tions of the Church,' which were confided entirely to
him, says, "It very probably took its rise from the
earliest device of the Knights Templars, namely, the
two knights on the same horse. From an imperfect
impression of an imperfect seal, these two knights
were by mistake converted into two wings, which*thc
classic taste of the reign of Elizabeth might induce the
Society to think a very pretty device, and the error has
been, without further examination, perpetuated/' A
good joke in poetical guise has made these emblems
noticeable ; the verses here following are said to have
been first chalked up on the Temple gates : —

As by the Templars' hold you go,

The Horse and Lamb display *d,
Id emblematic figures shew

The merits of their trade.

That clients may infer from thence

How just is their profession —
The Lamb sets forth their innocence,

The Horse their expedition," &c.

But, of all the objects of interest in the Round, the
recumbent figures of the Crusaders, on the floor, most
eminently deserve and justify examination. These
but two years ago looked generally more like rude
masses of worthless stone than anything else, the sur-
face being extensively decayed — noses, fingers, swords,
legs and feet every here and there missing— all deli-
cacy of workmanship, such as expression in the faces,
or minute points of costume in the garb, apparently
lost. It was found, indeed, that they were too far gone
for restoration. A trial, however, was permitted to be
made on one of them — the exceedingly graceful figure
that is nearest to the central walk of the second pair
on the right hand — and the sculptor, Mr. Richardson,
set to work. The paint and whitewash, in places a
quarter of an inch thick, were first removed by means
of a finely-pointed tool (washes of a sufficiently power-
ful kind it was feared would be injurious to so de-
cayed a surface), and the surface made clean ; a che-
mical liquid was then forced into the stone to harden
it, and, next, the restoring process begun. This con-
sisted of two parts — filling up all the hollows (which
were so numerous as to make the effigy appear like a
honeycomb) with a composition exactly imitating the
stone, and becoming immediately almost as hard ; and,
secondly, of supplying the missing limbs and mem-
bers by the authority of those which remained, worked
in the same material, and joined by the composition.
Except in very urgent cases, the original surface, how-
ever decayed, was left untouched, and no restorations
were made without absolute evidence that they were
restorations ; and yet the result is the very beautiful
and noble effigies which once more grace the floor of
the Temple Cnurch in their pristine state ; one only
exception being made as to tne coloured decorations
in painting and gilding, which it was discovered by
Mr. Richardson, in cleaning them, they had formerly
borne, particularly those which had not been wrought
in Purbeck marble : the effigy of William Marshal
the younger seems to have been most rich in this re-
spect ; traces were found on it of a crimson surcoat,
gilded armour, and of glass enamelling about the
cushion.

Whilst upon this subject we may observe that other
interesting discoveries of a similar kind were made
during the recent restoration. Some of the corbel
heads before referred to in the intervening archways
of the aisles had glass beads for eyes ; and only a week
before the re-opening of the church a beautiful little
seraph-like head was discovered at the corner of one of
these archways (between the Round and the southern
aisle) which had been most delicately coloured : from
the traces remaining, it could be discerned that the
eyes had been blue, the lips tinged with vermilion, and
the cheek with a flesh-colour, and that the graceful
flowing hair had been gilded. How all this reminds
one of the custom of the Greeks, even in the purest
eras of art among them ; and of the extraordinary length
to which they carried this species of decoration in works
which to our eyes seem so beautiful in their naked
simplicity, that they could only be impaired by such
additions. With them we find metal, precious stones,
or imitations of precious stones, used for the eyes of
their busts and statues, as well as glass ; we find them
also inlaying the lips. Different-coloured marbles
were used in the same work, and compositions of metal
formed to harmonize in hue with the feeling intended
to be expressed by the sculptor. One of the most in-
teresting examples of the latter is that mentioned
by Plutarch, a statue of Jocasta, wife of Laius, king of

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Thebes, by the sculptor Silanion, in which the queen
Mas represented dying. By an ingenious mixture of
the metals of whicn it was formed, and, it is said, chiefly
by the addition of silver, a pallid tone was produced,
which greatly increased the intensity of the expression
in the features. By similar means, no doubt, was pro-
duced the bronze statue of Cupid by Praxiteles, so
much admired by Callistratus for its elegance of posi-
tion, the arrangement of the hair, its smile, the fire in
the eyes, and the vivid blush in the countenance; and
the iron statue of Athamas at Delphi, mentioned by
Pliny, which represented the king, sitting, after the
murder of his son : this work, it appears, was not en-
tirely of iron, for the artist Aristonidas, wishing to
express the effect of confusion and remorse in the
countenance of the king, used a mixture of iron and
bronze, which should imitate in some measure the
blush of shame.* Seeing then that we have such high
authorities for the coloured decorations of statues, and
that these heads in the Temple Church were coloured,
it may almost be doubted whether the restoring pro-
cess should have stopped short of this point : that is,
supposing there were sufficient materials to have re-
stored it rightly. To return : the effigies, nine in num-
ber, lie four on each side of the central walk, in a
double line, the ninth being farther off* on the right
against the wall, in the aisle, and corresponding in
position with the simply but elegantly carved stone
coffin-lid in the opposite aisle. As far as it has been
found possible to identify the effigies, five out of the
nine are assigned as follows : — Of the first pair on
the right, the farthest figure is that of the great Pro-
tector Pembroke, whose statesman -like policy freed
England from the foreigners whom the revolted barons
had introduced in self-defence against John, and re-
stored at the same time to the throne of the young Henry
the allegiance of hearts that had been long alienated
from it ; the other and nearer figure by his side is one
of Pembroke's sons, William Marshal, the Younger,
who overthrew Llewellyn of Wales, and was one of
John's hated opponents, a supporter of the Great
Charter, although John's own son-in-law, having mar-
ried his daughter. Henry III. followed his funeral to
the grave here, and was so affected that he could not
restrain his grief from being visible to all the by-
standers. Of the second pair the foremost is unknown,
the other is the effigy of Gilbert Marshal, another of
the Protector's sons, who died at a tournament which he
had instituted, through a fall from a runaway horse.
The figure still farther to the right, De Roos's, an ex-
quisitely beautiful piece of sculpture, refers also to one
of the great men or the Charter. On the left, one only
of the figures has been recognised, the foremost of
the two nearest the western door, which is Geoffrey de
Magnaville's, a grandson of the Norman follower of
William, who so distinguished himself at the battle of
Hastings, and whose history was of no ordinary kind.
During the civil war in tne reign of Stephen, Mag-
naville, having deserted the cause of the latter, held
the Tower for Maud, and was attacked there by the
citizens, without success ; but being taken prisoner at
St. Albans, in 1443, was compelled to give it up with
his other possessions. From that time De Magnaville
seems to have grown tired of rapine and plunder on
another's account (for much of the civil war at that
time seems to have been little else than rapine and
plunder), and to have determined to act entirely upon
Iris own, respecting no party — treating the Church
no better than the laity. One of his exploits was rob-
bing Romscy Abbey of its consecrated vessels, among
other valuables. He was killed by an arrow, which
pierced his brain, as he was besieging the royal castle
at Burwell, the archer's aim having been probably in-
* See ' Penny Cyclopaedia,' article Sculpture.

vited by his removing his helmet on account of the heat
of the day. Of course he had been excommunicated
for such deeds as that before mentioned, and in conse-
quence no one dared to bury him in consecrated
ground. The Templars, however, with whom no
doubt he was connected as a kind of lay-brother and
benefactor, wrapped his dead body in their habit, placed
it in a leaden coffin, and then suspended it from one
of the trees in their garden here. Some years after,
absolution was obtained, and the body buried in the
porch before the entrance doorway, and there two
bodies were recently found, one of them no doubt his.
Of the unknown figures, one very probably is the effigy
of William Plantagenet, fifth son of Henry III., who
was buried in the Temple Church. Those of the nine
figures which have tne legs crossed are, we need
hardly mention, persons who had joined in the Ci u-
sades, or were under vows to do so. The whole form
the most valuable series of examples of military cos-
tume that we possess, from the days of Stephen to those
of Henry III.

[To be continued.

ESSAYS ON THE LIVES OF REMARKABLE
PAINTERS.— No. VI.

Giotto and his Scholars.

[Continued from p. 122.]

Giotto's personal character and disposition had no
small part in the revolution he effected. In the union
of endowments which seldom meet together ;n the
same individual—extraordinary inventive and poetical
genius, with sound, practical, energetic sense, and un-
tiring activity and energy — Giotto resembled Rubens ;
and only this rare combination could have enabled him
to fling off so completely all the fetters of the old style,
and to have executed the amazing number of works
which are with reason attributed to him. His charac-
ter was as independent in other matters as in his own
art. He seems to have had little reverence for re-
ceived opinions about anything, and was singularly
free from the superstitious enthusiasm of the times in
which he lived, although he lent his powers to embo-
dying that very superstition. Perhaps the very cir-
cumstance of his being employed in painting the in-
teriors of churches and monasteries opened to his
acute, discerning, and independent mind reflections
which took away some of the respect for the mysteries
they concealed. There is extant a poem of Giotto's, en-
titled ' A Song against Poverty,' which becomes still
more piquante in itself, and expressive of the peculiar
turn of Giotto's mind, when we remember that he had
painted the Glorification of Poverty as the Bride of St.
Francis, and that in those days songs in praise of po-
verty were as fashionable as devotion to St. Francis,
the •• Patriarch of poverty." Giotto was celebrated,
too, for his joyous temper, for his witty and satirical
repartees, and seems to have been as careful of his
worldly goods as he was diligent in acquiring them.
Boccaccio relates an anecdote of him, not very impor-
tant ; but as it contains several traits which are divert-
ingly characteristic, we will give it here : —

" Fair and dear ladies !" (Thus the novelist is wont
to address his auditory.) " It is a wondrous thing to sec
how oftentimes nature hath been pleased to hide within
the most misshapen forms the most wondrous treasures
of soul, which is evident in the persons of two of our
fellow-citizens, of whom I shall now briefly discourse
to you. Messer Forese da Rabatta, the advocate, be-
ing a personage of the most extraordinary wisdom, and
learned in the law above all others, yet was in body
mean and deformed, with, thereunto, a flat, currish
(ricagnato) physiognomy ; and Messer Giotto, who was

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not in face or person one whit better favoured than
the said Messer Forese, had a genius of that excel-
lence, that there was nothing which nature (who is the
mother of all things) could bring forth, but he with his
ready pencil would so wondrously imitate it, that it
seemed not only similar, but the same ; thus deluding
the visual sense of men, so that they deemed that what
was only pictured before them did in reality exist.
And seeing that through Giotto that art was restored
to light which had been for many centuries buried
(through fault of those who, in painting, addressed
themselves to please the eye of the vulgar, and not to
content the understanding of the wise), I esteem him
worthy to be placed among those who have made fa-
mous and glorious this our city of Florence. Never-
theless, though so great a man in his art, he was but
little in person, and, as I have said, ill-favoured
enough. Now it happened that Messer Forese and
Giotto had possessions in land in Mugello, which is on
the road leading from Florence to Bologna, and thither
they rode one day on their respective affairs, Messer
Forese being mounted on a sorry hired jade, and the
other in no better case. It was summer, and the rain
came on suddenly and furiously, and they hastened to
take shelter in the house of a peasant thereabouts who
was known to them ; but the storm still prevailing,
they, considering that they must of necessity return to
Florence the same day, borrowed from the peasant two
old, worn-out pilgrim-cloaks and two rusty old hats,
and so they set forth. They had not proceeded very
far when tney found themselves wet through with the
rain, and all bespattered with the mud ; but after a
while, the weather clearing in some small degree, they
took heart, and from being silent they began to dis-
course of various matters. Messer Forese having list-
ened awhile to Giotto, who was in truth a man most
eloquent and lively in speech, could not help casting
on him a glance as he rode alongside, and considering
him from nead to foot thus wet, ragged, and splashed
all over, and thus mounted and accoutred, and not
taking his own appearance into account, he laughed
aloud. *0 Giotto,' said he, jeeringly, 'if a stranger
were now to meet us, could he, looking on you, be-
lieve it possible that you were the greatest painter in
the whole world ?' « Certainly,* quoth Giotto, with a
side glance at his companion, * certainly ; if looking
upon your worship he could believe it possible that you
knew your ABC!' Whereupon Messer Forese could
not but confess that he had been paid in his own
coin." .

This is one of many humorous repartees which
tradition has preserved, and an instance of that readi-
ness of wit — tnat prontezza — for which Giotto was ad-
mired ; in fact he seems to have presented in himself,
in the union of depth and liveliness, of poetical fancy
and worldly sense, of independent spirit and polished
suavity, an epitome of the national character of the
Florentines, such as Sismondi has drawn it. We learn,
from the hyperboles used by Boccaccio, the sort of rap-
turous surprise which Giotto's imitation of life caused
in his imaginative contemporaries, and,which assuredly
they would be far from exciting now ; and the unce-
remonious description of his person becomes more
amusing when we recollect that Boccaccio must have
lived in personal intercourse with the painter, as did
Petrarch and Dante. When Giotto died in 1336, his
friend Dante had been dead three years ; Petrarch was
thirty-two, and Boccaccio twenty- three years of age.
When Petrarch died in 1374, he left to his friend,
Francesco da Carrara, Lord of Padua, a Madonna,
painted by Giotto, as a most precious legacy, " a won-
derful piece of work, of which the ignorant might
overlook the beauties, but which the learned must re-
gard with amazement." All writers who treat of the

ancient glories of Florence — Florence the beautiful —
Florence the free — from Villani down to Sismondi,
count Giotto in the roll of her greatest men. Anti-
quaries and connoisseurs in art search out and study the
relics which remain to us, and recognise in them the
dawn of that splendour which reached its zenith in the
beginning of the sixteenth century : while to the philo-
sophic observer Giotto appears as one of those few
heaven-endowed beings, whose development springs
from a source within — one of those unconscious instru-
ments in the hand of Providence, who, in seeking their
own profit and delight through the expansion of their
own faculties, make unawares a step forward in human
culture, lend a new impulse to human aspirations, and,
like the •« bright morning star, day's harDinger," may
be merged in the succeeding radiance, but never for-
gotten.

Before we pass on to the scholars and imitators of
Giotto, who during the next century filled all Italy
with schools of art — we may here make mention of
one or two of his contemporaries, not so much for any
performances left behind them, but because they have
been commemorated by men more celebrated than
themselves, and survivo embalmed in their works as
•' flies in amber." Dante has mentioned, in his • Pur-
gatorio,' two painters of the time, famous for their
miniature illustrations of Missals and MSS. Before the
invention of printing, and indeed for some time after,
this was an important branch of art : it flourished from
the days of Charlemagne to those of Charles V., and
was a source of honour as well as riches to the lay-
men who practised it. Many, however, of the most
beautiful specimens of illuminated manuscripts are the
work of the Benedictine monks, who laboured in the
silence and seclusion of their convents, and who yielded
to their community most of the honour and all the
profit : this was not the case with Oderigi, whom Dante
nas represented as expiating in purgatory his excessive
vanity as a painter, and humbly giving the palm to
another, Franco Bolognese, of whom there remains no
relic but a Madonna, engraved in Rosini's ' Storia della
Pittura.' He retains, however, a name as the founder
of the early Bolognese school. The fame of Buffal-
macco as a jovial companion, and the tales told in
Boccaccio of his many inventions and the tricks he
played on his brother-painter the simple C aland ri no,
nave survived almost every relic of his pencil. Yet
he appears to have been a good painter of that time,
and to have imitated, in his later works, the graceful
simplicity of Giotto :* he had also much honour and
sufficient employment, but having been more intent
on spending than earning, he died miserably poor in
1340.

Cavallini studied under Giotto at Rome, but seems
never to have wholly laid aside the Greekish style in
which he had been first educated. He was a man of
extreme simplicity and sanctity of mind and manners,
and felt some scruples in condemning as an artist the
Madonnas before wnich he had knelt in prayer : this feel-
ing of earnest piety he communicated to all his works.
There is bv him a picture of the Annunciation pre-
served in tne church of St. Mark at Florence, in which
the expression of piety and modesty in the Virgin, and
of reverence in the kneeling ange), is perfectly beauti-
ful : the same devout feeling enabled him to rise to the
sublime in a grand picture of the Crucifixion which
he painted in the church of Assisi, and which is
reckoned one of the most important monuments of the
Giotto school— the resignation of the divine sufferer,

* An elegant little figure of St Catherine, attributed to Buf-
falmacco, is engraved in Rosini, p. 52. A picture of SL
Ursula, an early work of the same painter, is quite Byzantine in
style. The Frescoes in the Campo Santo at Pisa, so long attri-
buted to him, are by another hand. (See Kugler and Rumohr.')

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the lamenting angels, the fainting Virgin, the groups
of Roman soldiers, are all painted with a truth and
feeling quite wonderful for the time. Engravings
after Cavallini may he found in Ottley's * Early Italian
School,' and in Rosini (p. 21). He became the pupil of
Giotto when nearly forty years old, and survived him
only a short time, dying in 1340. With Cavallini
begins the list of painters of the Roman school, after-
wards so illustrious. Among the contemporaries of
Giotto we must refer once more to Duccio of Sienna.
Though an established painter in his native city when
Giotto was a child, his later works show that the in-
fluence of that young and daring spirit had given a new
impulse to his mind. His best picture, still preserved,
and described with enthusiasm in Kugler s ' Hand-
book/ was painted in 1311. Duccio died very old,
about 1339.

ECONOMICAL USES OF THE MAPLE.

Among the trees which abound in the magnificent
forests of North America the Maple deserves notice on
account of the large variety of uses to which it is ap-
plied in the arts of life.

There are about fourteen species of this tree worthy
of enumeration of which one half are European and
the other half American. The Maples, in general, are
lofty and beautiful trees. Capable of enduring an in-
tense degree of cold, they form, in northern countries
extensive forests, which seem to occupy a .medium
place between those of the Beech, the Spruce, the
Larch, and the Fir, on one side, and those of the Chestnut
and the Oak on the other. In America the Maple is
found principally between the latitudes of 43° and 46°.
As we do not propose to enter upon the botanical cha-
racters of the different species, it will not be necessary
to classify them in any particular order ; but it will
suffice to take the useful applications, one by one, and
enumerate the species whicn yield them. We will be-

gin with the Maple in respect of the wood or timber
which it yields ; taking as our principal guides Mi-
chaux (' Arbres. Forestieres de PAmerique Septentrio-
nale ') and Loudon (« Arboretum et Fruticetum Bri-
tannicum ").

The Sugar-Maple, whose name is derived from a
circumstance which we shall notice further on, is one
of the finest of this genus. In America it sometimes
reaches a height of seventy or eighty feet, and is a very
noble-looking tree. It has been estimated that in the
northern parts of the states of Pennsylvania and New
York there are ten millions of acres which produce
these trees, in the proportion of about thirty to an acre.

In the more Southern states it is nearly unknown.
The wood, when cut, is white : but after being wrought
and exposed some time to the light, it takes a rosy
tinge. Its grain is fine and close, and when polished
it has a silky lustre. In the States of Vermont, New
Hampshire, and Maine, where the oak is not plentiful,
the timber of the sugar-maple is substituted for it, in
preference to that of the beech, the birch, and the elm.
When perfectly seasoned, which requires a period of
two or three years, it is used by wheelwrights for axle-
trees and spokes and similar purposes. It is also em-
ployed in tne manufacture of Windsor chairs. In the
country ,"where the houses are wholly of wood, this kind
of timber is used for the framework ; and in the district
of Maine it is preferred to beech for the keels of ves-
sels, as it furnishes longer pieces. Used in combina-
tion with beech and yellow pine, it forms the lower
frame of ships, immersed in the water.

The Red-flowering or Scarlet Maple is another
American species, known in different parts of the
United States by the various names of Swamp Maple,
Soft Maple, and the two others just mentioned. It is
found very extensively from Canada in the north to
Florida in the south, located generally in swamp or
on the borders of creeks. There are in Philadelphia
and New Jersey extensive marshes called " Maple
Swamps/* exclusively covered with it ; the trees rising
to a height of seventy or eighty feet, and measuring
three or four feet in diameter. It has been observed
that in descending towards the mouths of the large
American rivers, tne red-maple is the last tree found
in the swamps, the tree diminishing in size as the soil
becomes impregnated with salt. The wood of this tree
is applied to various uses in America. It has a fine
and close grain, is easily wrought in the lathe, and ac-
quires by polishing a glossy and silken surface. It is
very largely used in the manufacture of Windsor
chairs. The pieces are prepared in the country ; and
so considerable is the demand, that boats laden with
them frequently arrive at New Y ork and Philadelphia,
where extensive factories are carried on, the manufac-
tured articles being furnished to the neighbouring
towns, and also exported to the West Indies. The
whole framework of japanned chairs in America is
made of this wood, the backs being made of hickory.
The frame, the nave, and the spokes of spinning-wheels
are made of the red manic. At Philadelphia it is the
only wood used for saddle-trees ; and in the country it
is preferred to most others for yokes, shovels, and
wooden dishes, which are brought to market by the
country-people, and purchased by the dealers in
wooden-ware. Before mahogany became generally
fashionable in the United States, tne best furniture in
use was made of the red maple ; and bedsteads arc
still made of it, which are said to equal the finest ma-
hogany in richness and 111811*0. It sometimes happens
that in very old trees of this species the grain, instead
of following a perpendicular direction, is undulated,
whence it obtains the name of " curled maple ;" and
from the toughness and strength which this tex-
ture superadds to the natural lightness and elegance of

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the wood, such specimens are much sought after for
making the stocks of fowling-pieces and rifles.

The White Maple, like the Red, is an American spe-
cies. It is found on the banks of all the rivers which flow
from the mountains of the interior to the ocean ; and is
particularly abundant in the Western states, about the
Ohio and its tributary streams. "There," says Mi-
ehaux, " sometimes alone, and sometimes mingled with
the willow, which is found along all these waters, it
contributes singularly by its magnificent foliage to the
embellishment of the scene. The brilliant white of
the leaves beneath forms a striking contrast with the
bright green above, and the alternate reflections of the
two surfaces in the water heightens the beauty of this
wonderful moving mirror, and aids in forming an en-
chanting picture, which, during my long excursions in
a canoe in these regions of solitude and silence, I con-
templated with unwearied admiration." Unlike the
Red Maple, the White species is found on the banks
of such rivers only as have limpid waters and a gra-
velly bed, and never in swampy ground. The wood
of this species is very white and of a fine grain ; but it
is softer and lighter than that of the other species.
Wooden bowls are sometimes made of it ; and cabinet-
makers frequently employ it in their operations.

The Sycamore Maple, or Great Maple, is a species
which grows abundantly in various parts of Europe,
such as Switzerland, Germany, and Italy. Its timber,
when the tree is young, is white ; but as it grows older
the tint changes to yellow or even brown. It is com-
pact and firm, without being very hard ; of a fine grain,
sometimes veined ; susceptible of a high polish ; and
easily worked either at the bench or 'the lathe. In
France and Germany this wood is much sought after
by wheelwrights, cabinet makers, turners, sculptors in
wood, manufacturers of musical-instruments — especi-
ally of violins, and makers of toys and other small
wares. It is also used for pestles, tables, rollers, spoons,
plates, and a considerable variety of household articles ;
as likewise for gun-stocks. The wood of the British
trees belonging to this species is used by our manu-
facturers for many of the purposes here enumerated,
as well as for cider-presses. The Scotch wooden dishes
and spoons, so much used in bygone times, were fre-
quently made of this wood.

The Rose-leaved Maple, a native of the Jura Alps
and the Pyrenees, yields a very hard and compact kind
of wood, free from sap-wood, not easily split, and so
homogeneous in its texture, that it is almost impossible
to distinguish the annual layers: it is white lightly
shaded with lemon-colour, sometimes exhibiting flashes
or shades of red, and it takes a fine polish. This wood
is much used by wheelwrights in. France.

There are other species whose wood is more or less
employed in the arts, but which may be dismissed in
a few words ; such as the round-leaved maple, a native
species of North America, of which the fine, white,
tough, and close-grained wood is much used by the
Americans, and of which the slender branches are em-
ployed by the native Indians to make the hoops of their
scoop-nets, used for taking salmon at the rapids and
in the contracted parts of rivers; the Montpelier
maple, found in southern France, Spain, and Italy,
the hard and heavy wood of which is used in France
by turners and cabinet-makers ; and the common or
field maple, found in various parts of Europe and Asia,
and the wood of which is used for similar purposes as
that of the species just named.

But besides the applications of maple-wood for pur-
poses of strength and service, there are features pre-
sented by several of the species which admirably
qualify them for use as ornamental or * fancy ' woods,
either in tl.e bulk or more frequently in the form of a
thin veneer laid on a foundation of less valuable wood.

We have before alluded to an undulating arrangement
which is sometimes observable in old trees of the red
maple species, and of the strength which this structure
gives to the wood. It is said that not more than one
tree in a hundred of the species presents these pecu-
liarities; but, when they do occur, the specimens are
much prized for the ornamental character of the wood.
The serpentine direction of the fibre, which renders
the wood difficult to split and to work, produces, in
the hands of a skilful mechanic, the most beautiful
effects of light and shade. These effects are rendered
more striking if, after smoothing the surface of the
wood with a double-ironed plane, it is rubbed with a
little sulphuric acid, and afterwards with linseed oil.
On examining it attentively, the varying shades are
found to be owing to the irregular reflection of light,
and are more sensibly perceived if the surface be
viewed in different directions by candlelight.

The sugar-maple, in like manner, yields wood which
is highly valued for purposes of ornament. This wood
exhibits two accidental forms in the arrangement of
the fibre : of which the first consists in undulations
like those in the curled wood of the red maple ; while
the second arrangement, found only in old trees that
arc still sound, and which appears to arise from an
inflexion of the fibre from the circumference towards
the centre, produces minute spots, sometimes con-
tiguous and at other times wide apart. The more nu-
merous the snots, the more beautiful and the more
esteemed is tne wood. This variety is known to our
cabinet-makers by the name of • biras-eyc maple,' and
is much used for inlaying and veneering. Tne finest
effect is produced when the logs are cut with the saw
parallel to the concentric circles of the wood.

Nearly all the kinds of maple- wood possess sufficient
beauty to be used as veneers, but the two preceding are
the most prized. Specimens of the large-leaved maple
have, indeed, been seen, of which the wood exhibited
a grain scarcely inferior in beauty to the finest satin-
wood. Many kinds exhibit knots, spots, and curls,
which cause them to be used in bulk or solid pieces
for ornamental purposes. For instance, the root of
the sycamore-maple often exhibits a veined texture
which leads to its employment in curious articles of
cabinet-work : the roots, too, of the Italian or Opal
maple, especially of those trees which have been often
cut, are very much sought after on account of their
hardness, and their curious knots and blotches, which .
render them suitable for making snuff-boxes and simi-
lar articles ; and lastly, the roots of the common or
field maple are similarly sought for and employed.

In a country like England, where coal forms the
great bulk of the fuel employed — not only for do-
mestic use, but also in manufactures — the relative
qualities of different woods as fuel, and as materials
for charcoal, arc not so much attended to as in most
other countries ; and consequently we find, in descrip-
tions of foreign trees written by foreigners, that tne
value of any particular tree as fuel is generally entered
among its qualities. Such is the case with respect to
the maple. A few examples will suffice. The char-
coal obtained from the sugar-maple is said to be pre-
ferred, in the forges of Vermont and Maine, to that
obtained from any other kind of wood : the trees of
this species in the States just named yield from their
wood charcoal one-fifth heavier than that from similar
trees grown farther south — a fact which shows the
effect of climate. The wood of the Sycamore-maple is
highly prized as fuel, both for the quantity of heat
which it pives out, and the time that it continues
burning : in the state both of wood and of charcoal, it
is superior to beech as a fuel. Michaux says that the
hatters of Pittsburg prefer the charcoal of the white
maple wood to that of any other for heating their

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135

boilers, under the impression that it' affords a more
uniform and durable heat The wood of the common
maple, whether "m its natural state or as a charcoal,
makes excellent fuel ; whereas that of the red species
has a bad reputation in America in respect to its burn-
ing qualities.

The leaves and young shoots of the maple are often
brought more or less into use. Thus, Pallas informs
us, while treating of the Tartarian maple, that the
Cal mucks boil the fruit in water, and afterwards use
it for food, mixed up with milk and butter. An
American species, called the striped-bark maple, af-
fords food to cattle in Nova Scotia, where the animals
eat the leaves both in the green and dried state ; and
in spring, when the buds begin to swell, both horses
and cattle are turned into woods to browse on the
young shoots.

With respect to the manufacturing arts, the maple
has hitherto chiefly been valuable in relation to the
solid wood which constitutes the trunk ; but it is not
improbable that various useful applications will here-
after be made of the sap or juice. The cellular matter
of the inner bark of the red iuaple,\vhich is of a dusky
red colour, yields by boiling a purplish colour, which
becomes very dark blue on the addition of sulphate of
iron ; and this colour, mixed with a certain portion of
alum in solution, is used in the provincial districts of
America for dyeing black. The cellular integument
of the white maple yields in a similar manner a black-
dyeing material. The preparation of potash from the
ashes of the sugar-maple is carried on most exten-
sively in America, particularly in Upper Canada, in a
manner which has been fully described by an eye-
witness in our No. 573.

In a domestic point of view, the extraction of sugar
from the juice ot the maple is by far the most import-
ant application of the tree. From the sap oi the
Norway maple, sugar is prepared in Norway, Sweden,
and Lithuania; thirty-five quarts of sap have been
produced from one tree in eight days. 1 he sycamore
maple has been known to yield thirty-six quarts in
five days, which gave about an ounce of sugar to a
quart of sap ; and in an experiment made by Sir T. D.
Lauder on a tree of this kind in 1816, 116 parts of
juice or sap yielded one of sugar. Most of the other
species yield saccharine sap more or less freely ; but
all are exceeded in this respect by the sugar-maple,
which has derived its name from the abundance of this
sap found in it and which is a tree of great importance
to Canadian emigrants. The whole circumstances at-
tending the collection of the sap and the manufacture
of the sugar from it, have been so fully detailed in
our Nos. 194 and 300, as to preclude the necessity for
any further description here.

SONOROUS GRANITE AND SAND-HILLS.
In the tropical regions of both continents there are cer-
tain phenomena which have given rise to much specula-
tion, both among superstitious natives, and among Eu-
ropean men of science who have visited the districts in
question. Masses of granite rock, both hewn and
unhewn, and hills of loose sand, have been heard to
emit sounds, either at certain hours of the day, or else
when agitated or disturbed under peculiar circum-
stances. The attention of scientific men had been
directed to the matter some years back ; but very re-
cently the late lamented Sir Alexander Burncs met
with a similar sonorous hill in Afghanistan.

The statue of Memnon, still existing in a mutilated
state, in Egypt, was celebrated among the ancients for
the vocal sounds — or sounds so deemed— emitted by it.
One of the classical writers states that the statue looked
towards the east, and that it spoke as soon as the rays

of the rising sun fell upon its mouth ; another men-
tions it as emitting only a single sound ; a third al-
luded to several d liferent tones or sounds ; and a fourth
states that the statue, which is dedicated to the sun,
" emits sounds every morning at sunrise, which can
be compared only to that of the breaking of the at: ing
of a lyre.*' When such men as Pausanias, Strabo, ?nd
Juvenal mention these emissions of sound, it is pretty
certain that there must have been some foundation
for the report ; but in the absence of any natural ex-
planation of the causes, mystery soon enveloped the
whole. The simple sounds emitted were by degrees
magnified into intelligible words, and even into an
oracle of seven verses ; and the Egyptian priests ap-
pear to have made use of this agency to maintain an
ascendency over the people.

When modem travellers became acquainted with
this statue, much discussion arose as to whether the
sounds really heard were due to any natural cause, or
were produced by some contrivance of the priests.
M. Dussaulx offers an opinion that, " the statue being
hollow, the rays of the sun heated the air whicli it con-
tained ; and this air, issuing at some crevice, produced
sounds to which the priests gave their own interpreta-
tion." This probably approaches pretty nearly to the
truth ; but otner writers, preoccupied with the idea
that the whole was an artificial arrangement, have set
themselves the task of deciding how such an effect
might be produced. M. LangTes conceives that the
sounds might be produced by a series of hammers,
which struck either the granite itself, or sonorous
stones, like those which have long been used in China
for musical-instruments. M. Salver te goes much far-
ther than this. He supposed that there might be
adapted to these hammers a clepsydra, or water-clock,
or some other instrument, fitted to measure time, and
so constructed as to put the hammers in motion at sun-
rise. He even tries to show how the hammers them-
selves might be made to act, by the following conjec-
ture : — Between the lips of the statue, or in some less
remarkable part of it, concealed from view, he supposed
an aperture to be made, containing a lens or a mirror
capable of focalizing the rays of the rising sun upon
one or more metallic levers, which by their expansion
put in motion the series of hammers.

Besides the large amount of improbability attached
to the construction of such a complex piece of scien-
tific apparatus in such remote times, and the absence
of any evidence, cither written or monumental, in
support of it — there is this obstacle, that the position
of tne apparatus, which might be effective at one part
of the year, could not be so at another, on account of
the different parts of the horizon at which the sun
rises being farther north in summer than in autumn,
and in autumn than in winter. It is also plain that
the mutilation of the statue must have destroyed the
apparatus; and yet the sound is still heard. Sir A.
Smith, in the year 1821, examined the statue, and
states that at six o'clock in the morning he distinctly
heard sounds emitted ; but he thinks they emanate
from the pedestal, and not from the statue.

Sir David Brewster, in his * Letters on Natural Ma-
gic,' groups certain items of information which seem
to point to the true explanation of the cause of these
sounds. Baron Humboldt in Colombia, and M M. Ja-
mard, Jollois, and Dcvilliers in Upper Egypt, happened
about the same time to meet with masses of granite
from which sounds were heard. Humboldt thus
speaks : — "The granitic rock on which we lay is one of
those where travellers on the Orinoco have heard from
time to time, towards sunrise, subterraneous sounds
resembling those of the organ. The missionaries call
these stones loxas de mtm'ca, ' 1 1 is w itchcraf t,' said our
young Indian pilot. We never ourselves heard these

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mysterious sounds, either at Carichana, Vieja, or in the
Upper Orinoco ; hut from information given ushy wit-
nesses worthy of helief, the existence of a phenomenon
that seems to depend on a certain state of the atmo-
sphere cannot be denied. The shelves of rocks are full
of very narrow and deep crevices ; they are heated dur-
ing the day to about 50° ; and I often found their tem-
perature at the surface during the night at 39°, the sur-
rounding atmosphere being at 28°. It may easily be
conceived that the difference of temperature between
the subterraneous and the external air attains its
maximum about sunrise. May not these Bounds of an
organ, then, which are heard wnen a person sleeps upon
the rock, his ear in contact with stone, be the effect of
a current of air that issues out through tlie crevices?
Does not the impulse of the air against the elastic
spangles of mica tnat intercept the crevices contribute
to modify the sounds? May we not admit that the
ancient inhabitants of Egypt, in passing incessantly
up and down the Nile, had made the same observation
on some rocks of the Thebaid, and that the music of
the rocks there led to the jugglery of the priests in the
btatue of Memnon ?"

The last suppositive case put by Humboldt received
singular support at the very time, but without the
mutual knowledge of the parties, by the French tra-
vellers in Egypt. These gentlemen heard, at sunrise,
in a monument of granite situated near the centre of
the spot on which the palace of Carnac stands, a sound
resembling that of a breaking string, precisely the
expression used by Pausanias in speaking of the Mem-
non statue. They regarded these sounds as arising
from the transmission of rarefied air through the cre-
vices of a sonorous stone.

From all the evidence collected it is now inferred that
granitic rocks do emit sounds, when the external tem-
perature is greatly different from that of the crevices
in the granite; that the priests of Egypt, cognizant of
the fact to a certain degree, caused the statue of Memnon
to be sculptured from a block of granite which had
been heard to emit such sounds; that the mouth of
the statue wad placed opposite to the sun to give an ap-
parent but mystical connection between them ; and
that the simple sounds had been magnified in import-
ance to suit the purposes of the priests.

The noises heard from sandy mountains, though
probably different in their source, have been equally
the objects of superstition and wonder. In that part
of Arabia called Arabia Petnea, near the northern end
of the Red Sea, is a mountain from which very singular
sounds are heard. No European appears to have vi-
sited it before M. Seetzen, who wrote concerning it 'in
1812. He says : — " For two years I had heard it spoken
of by the Greeks, first at the convent of Sinai, and
afterwards at Suez ; but the account which was given
me of it was accompanied with so many fabulous re-
citals, that I was lea to suppose it an invention of the
merchants. When I obtained further information at
Wady el Nachel, it hot only confirmed these first ac-
counts, but added to them new prodigies : such as that
under the mountain there existed a Greek convent, and
that the subterranean noise was that of the Nakous, or
call to prayers. (The Nakous is a sort of long narrow
rule, suspended in a horizontal position, which the
priest strikes with a hammer, and the sound of which
is heard at a distance.) It was also stated that a Greek,
who had been dead for some time, had seen the moun-
tain open, and had descended into the subterranean
convent, where he found fine gardens and delicious
water ; and in order to give proof of this descent he
had brought to the upper worla some fragments of con-
secrated bread which he had received."

In order to see what had really given rise to these
marvellous tales, Seetzen visited the mountain. He

found it a bare but majestic rock of hard sandstone, in-
scribed with numerous names in the Greek, Arabic,
and K optic languages, which showed that it had oftea
been visited. Upon two sides the mountain presented
surfaces so inclined, that the white and slightly adher-
ing sand by which it was covered could scarcely sup-
port itself, but slid down with the slightest motion, or
even when the burning rays of the sun destroyed its
cohesion. These two sandy declivities were about a
hundred and fifty feet in height.

Seetzen first heard the sound shortly after noon. He
climbed with great difficulty to a height of sevepty or
eighty feet, and stopped at a spot where the pilgrims
were in the habit ol placing themselves to listen. In
climbing he heard the sound from beneath his knees,
which made him think that the sliding of the sand
was the cause, and not the effect, of the sounds. The
sounds were heard at about one o'clock, then about
three o'clock, and then a third time ; and seemed to
Seetzen to have great analogy to those of a humming-
top, or sometimes to those of an Eolian harp. To test
the truth of his conjecture that the motion of the sand
was the cause of the sound, he climbed to the greatest
height which he could reach, and slid down to the bot-
tom as rapidly as he could, disturbing the sand at the
same time with his hands and feet. The effect pro-
duced was so great, and the sand in rolling made so
loud a noise, that the ground seemed to tremble, and
Seetzen owns that he should have been afraid if he had
not himself planned the experiment.

Mr. Gray, of Oxford, and Lieutenant Wellstead,
have also described this sand-hill. The first time that
Mr. Gray visited this place, he heard at the end of a
quarter of an hour a low continuous murmuring sound
beneath his feet, which gradually changed into pulsa-
tions as it became louder, so as to resemble the strik-
ing of a clock. Iu five minutes it became so strong as
to detach the sand. He returned to the spot on the
following day, and remained there an hour, during
which he heard the sound much louder than on the
preceding day.

Mr. Gray offers no solution of the cause of the sound,
but M. Seetzen attributes it mainly to the motion of
the particles of very dry sand over each other in de-
scending. This seems to agree with the account given
by Sir A. Burnes of a sand-hill in Afghanistan. It is
situated in the vicinity of Cabul, and is called the
Reg-Iluwan, or " moving-sand." Two ridges of hills,
detached from the main line of the Hindu-Koosh,
run in and meet each other ; and at this spot is a hill,
about four hundred feet high, and whose sides present
an angle of about 40°, covered with a surface of very
pure and dry sand. When this sand is set in motion by
a body of people who slide down it, a sound is emitted.
Sir A. Burnes says, " On the first trial we distinctly
heard two loud hollow sounds, such as would be given
by a large drum. On two subsequent attempts we
heard nothing, so that perhaps the sound requires to
be for a time settled before the curiosity is displayed.
There is an echo in the place, and the inhabitants have
a belief that the sounds are only heard on Friday, when
the Saint of Reg- Ru wan, who is interred hard by, per-
mits. The locality of the sand is remarkable, there
being none other in the neighbourhood."

It seems scarcely susceptible of a doubt that the su-
perficial stratum of sand is in both these cases the
cause of the sounds ; since the declivity is in both in-
stances such as to allow the descent of the sand with a
very slight impulse. The sound may result from the
rolling of the particles of sand one over another ; con-
centrated, it may be, by echoes from the neighbouring
hills ; for it would appear from the description that in
both cases the sand-covered hill is adjacent to others
which might return an echo.

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[Amoy.]

A M O Y.

Amoy is a small island near the coast of China, with a
town of the same name, lying towards the south-
eastern extremity of the province of Foo-Kien. It is
in 20° 45' N. lat. and 118° E. long. In Mandarin
dialect the name of the place is Hea-mun, which is
pronounced by the natives Ha-moy.

The district directly adjacent to this flourishing
town, the emporium of the commerce of the province,
is one of the most barren in all China ; but this cha-
racter does not seem to extend very widely, as Lieute-
nant Murray, in his work ' Doings in China/ says : —
•' The country in the immediate vicinity of Amoy is
miserably barren ; hence the means of subsistence are
scanty and expensive. A few miles distant, however,
the soil is rich and affords abundant supplies. Green
peas, potatoes, and other European vegetables were
brought to market in great abundance when the gene-
ral panic had ceased/' Notwithstanding this serious
disadvantage, the merchants of Amoy are among the
most wealthy and enterprising in the Chinese empire ;
they have formed connexions all along the coast, and
have established commercial houses in many parts of
the Eastern Archipelago. Most of the colonists in
Formosa emigrated from the district of Amoy, with
capital supplied by its merchants ; and in proportion
as that island has flourished, so has Amoy increased in
wealth and importance.

During the south-west monsoon, the merchants of
Amoy freight their vessels at Formosa with sugar,
which they sell at various ports to the northward, re-
turning home with cargoes of drugs. They maintain
commercial relations with Manilla, as well as with
Tonquin and Cochin-China: they annually employ
forty large junks in trading with Bankok, the capital
of Siam. Junks of the largest class— some of them
eight hundred tons burden — go to Borneo, Macassar,
Java, and the Soo-loo islands; and many of them
annually visit Sincapore, In order to procure goods of
British manufacture.

no. 708.

This port has not always been closed against Euro-

Fcan vessels. According to the records of the East
ndia Company, " the King of Tywan, on taking Amoy
in 1 675, issued a proclamation inviting both Chinese
and foreign merchants to trade thither, exempting
them from the payment of all duties for three years."
Many vessels in consequence resorted to the port, but
the exemption was speedily revoked. In 1681 the town
was taken by the Tartars, but Europeans were still
allowed to trade thither, and continued to do so until
1734, when the exactions of the Mandarins deterred
them from continuing so unprofitable an intercourse ;
and when an English ship went there ten years after,
many vain endeavours and much fruitless discussion
were employed to induce the Chinese to trade, so that
the vessel was obliged to proceed to Bengal for a
cargo.

The ship Amherst visited Amoy in 1832 with no
better success : it appears, however, that the obstacles
to her trading all proceeded from the authorities and
not from the people, by whom our countrymen were
received in the most friendly manner.

The late expedition has extended our knowledge of
Amoy, having been captured by our troops. Dr.
Macpherson says of it : — " Amoy is a principal third-
class city of China ; it has an excellent harbour, and
from its central situation is well adapted for com-
merce. It is a great emporium of trade, and lias con-
stant communication, not only with the neighbouring
states, but also with Singapore and other settlements
in the straits. The city is about eight miles in circum-
ference : it is surrounaed in part by a wall, and nearly
its whole length by the inner harbour. Its population
is fluctuating, from the major portion being so fre-
quently absent on mercantile pursuits. It is at all
times much infested by native robbers, who come in
boats and attack the inhabitants at night These
daring marauders paid repeated visits to the city even
while it was in possession of our troops, and plundered
the temples and public establishments -of much valua-
ble property. Tne citadel is about a mile in circum-

Vo^L. XII.-T

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fercnce. It entirely commands the suburbs and inner
town, and is surrounded by a wall which is occasionally
turrcted, and varies in height from twenty to thirty-
six feet. In this citadel were several extensive grana-
ries well filled, arsenals containing enormous quan-
tities of jingalls, wall-pieces, matchlocks, military
clothing, shields, bows and arrows, spears and swords
of all descriptions, besides extensive magazines of
powder and material for constructing it. There was
also a foundry, with moulds for casting fjuns. But
few war-junks were seen, the Chinese admiral having
shortly before our visit proceeded on a cruise with the
fleet. Large quantities of timber and naval stores
were found, and several war-junks were on the
stocks; one two-decker, moulded after the fashion
of ours, and carrying thirty guns, was ready for sea.
.... From the point of entrance into the inner har-
bour, the great sea-line of defence extended in one
continued battery of granite upwards of a mile. This
battery was faced with turf and inud several feet in
thickness, so that at a distance no appearance of a
fortification could be traced. The embrasures were
roofed, and the slabs thickly covered with turf, so as
to protect the men while working their guns. This
work mounted about one hundred guns, and it termi-
nated in a high wall, which was connected with a
range of rocky heights which run parallel to the
beach. The entrance into the harbour is by a channel
six hundred yards across, between the island of Koo-
langsoo and Ainoy. On each side of this passage there
were also strong fortifications."

Sir Hugh Gough has given a few additional parti-
culars in his despatch. He says — '* The outer town is
divided from the city by a chain of rocks, over which a
paved road leads through a pass that has a covered
gateway at its summit. The outer harbour skirts the
outer town, while the city is bounded in nearly its
whole length by the inner harbour and an estuary
which deeply indent the island. Including the outer
town and north-eastern suburb, the city cannot be
much less than ten miles in circumference ; and that
of the citadel, which entirely commands this suburb
and the inner town, though itself commanded by the
hills within shot range, is nearly one mile."

The Chinese were somewhat vain of their fortifica-
tions at Amoy. •• Their batteries,'* says Dr. Macpherson,
** having on two former occasions driven off the bar-
barian ships, they were by the Chinese considered
impregnable. The capture of them, therefore, must
have been a sad blow to their pride. Their magazines
were blown up; their arsenals and their contents
utterly destroyed ; their best war-junks and dockyards
were burnt ; upwards of five hundned guns of various
calibre rendered unserviceable, and their fortifications
experienced much the same fate as did those of the
Bocca Tigris."

Both Sir Hugh and Dr. Macpherson remark on the
greater degree of confidence reposed in us here by the
natives than was shown at other places. The Doctor
sayg — «• Several of the merchants never left their
shops: these showed far greater acquaintance with
European customs and manners than is even to be
found at Canton. They could enumerate the produc-
tions and describe the government of many places in
the Indian Archipelago. But the name of Singapore
was familiar to all, and produced many remarks in.
favour of the British nation. There, they said, pro-
perty is always safe : no duty is paid, and there are no
mandarins to squeeze." These are favourable indica-
tions towards our future intercourse with them.

Having on a former occasion given an account of
Macao and Canton (Nob. 533 and 535), and more re-
cently of Hong-Kong (No. 688), Ning-po (No. 639),
Shahg-ha? (No. 701), and Foo-choo-foo (No. 704), this j

notice of Amoy completes the list of places which have
been opened to the exertions of British industry ; and
we trust that the blessings arising from an intercourse
with us, and the consequent knowledge attained of a
more elevated religion, a higher morality, and a more
perfect civilization, may ultimately compensate the
Chinese for the severe sufferings endured by them in
the recent contest.

PARKS FOR THE PEOPLE— THE DERBY
ARBORETUM.

Tat time seems to be approaching when our busy
townsmen will have, if not green fields, at least a sub-
stitute for them, in or near the thickly-thronged
haunts of industry. During the rapid progress of ma-
nufactures since the commencement of the present
century, men scarcely dreamed of the changes which
were going on around them. By silent steps the
radius of each one of our great towns has gradually
increased, till those streets which were formerly
in the margin are now hemmed in all around, ana
spots which were formerly fields are now included
within the inhabited circle. This has arisen, not
only from the natural increase of population in the
towns, but from the migration thither of part of the
agricultural population. In sortie towns this increase
of masses of houses has pone on at such an astonishing
rate, that public attention begins now to be forcibly
directed to the probable consequences which will ensue
to the health of the inhabitants. In London, for ex-
ample, it is now a tiring walk to reach green fields
from districts which in the last generation were fields
themselves. The open and airy spots are becoming
choked up with bouses, one after another, and the
public are thus deprived of their breathing-places.

When the tenure of land in England is considered,
it is obvious that this system cannot be obviated ex-
cept by government grant or private liberality. If *
man possesses a piece of ground, he will dispose of it
in the way most conducive to his own interests, either
as building-ground or for some other purpose, accord-
ing to the circumstances of the case. It is of no use
to expect that the ground-landlord will lay by a part
of his plot of ground as a public exercise or pleasure-
ground ; he, as an individual, does not do so, and will
not do so. It must be by efforts of a more distinct
and decided nature that the end will be obtained.

There have been developed, within a recent period,
three methods of carrying out the desirable object :
by parliamentary enactment in the management of
enclosure bills ; by state grants ; and by private libe-
rality. With respect to the first, a resolution was
passed by the House of Commons in 1837, to the effect
that, in all new enclosure bills, some portions of the
waste lands about to be appropriated should be set
apart for the healthful recreation of the inhabitants of
the neighbouring towns and villages. Since that reso-
lution was carried, all the enclosure bills introduced
into parliament have had provision made for carrying
out the prescribed intention ; and future generations
will reap most valuable benefits from this arrange-
ment, by which little green spots, available to all the
inhabitants of a town or village, will be left perma-
nently unoccupied by houses.

As to the efforts of private individuals to aid in this
object, nothing perhaps has yet been done so striking
as that which the town of Derby exhibits. The family
of the Strutts, who have for nearly a century been dis-
tinguished manufacturers in that town, have grown in
importance with the growth of the town, and have
been universally esteemed for their liberality. One
of the living members of the family, Mr. Joseph
Strutt, presented to the corporation of the town, as

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trustee* on the part of the inhabitants, a piece of
ground, which he had caused to be laid out as a park
or pleasure-ground. This park received the designa-
tion of the "Derby Arboretum," and was publicly
opened on the 16th of September, 1840. The whole
ceremony of the opening was replete with interest, as
exhibiting a remarkable and liberally-construed com-
pact between the donor and the receivers of the gift.

On the morning of the festive day all business was
suspended in Derby, and all the corporate officers met
in council. Mr. Strutt addressed them in their cor-
porate capacity: he alluded to the increase in the
trade and population of the town ; to the selection of
Derby as a centra] station for the Midland Counties,
the North Midland, and the Birmingham and Derby
railways ; and to the spread of information and intel-
ligence among the people. But he also said, that no
opportunity had been afforded of retaining, for the in-
habitants generally, public walks and grounds. He
proceeded to state that, with a view of remedying the
defect, he had appropriated eleven acres of land on
the southern side of the town, which he had caused to
"be laid out with paths and walks, and planted with
trees and shrubs, for the use of the inhabitants. He
then explained the manner in which he proposed that
the corporation should manage the Arboretum, in
respect of hours of admission, guardianship, &c. ; and
pointed out the provision which he had made for the
stocking and supply of the grounds. He then made
an observation well worthy of being recorded for its
enlarged liberality :—" It has often been made a re-
proach to our country, that in England collections of
works of art, and exhibitions for instruction or amuse-
ment, cannot, without danger of injury, be thrown
open to the public. If any ground for such a reproach
still remains, I am convinced that it can be removed
only by greater liberality in admitting the people to
such establishments ; by thus teaching them that they
are themselves the parties most deeply interested in
their preservation, and that it must be the interest of
the public to protect that which is intended for the
public advantage. If we wish to obtain the affection
and regard of others, we must manifest kindness and
regard towards them ; if we seek to wean them from
debasing pursuits and brutalizing pleasures, we can
only hope to do so by opening to them new.sources of
rational enjoyment. It is under this conviction that I
dedicate these gardens to the public ; and I will only
add, that as the sun has shone orightly on me through
life, it would be ungrateful in me not to employ a por-
tion of the fortune which I possess in promoting the
welfare of those amongst whom I live, and by whose
industry I have been aided in its acquisition/'

After the presentation of the deed of settlement and
the various documents relating to the Arboretum, the
whole assemblage went in procession from the town-
hall to the spot itself, to take formal possession.
How they all walked in procession through the
grounds ; how volleys of cannon were fired ; how the
humble portion of the community danced away the
afternoon in tents prepared for their reception ; how
tea-drinking succeeded ; how a printing-press in the
grounds printed off copies of Mr. Strutt s presentation
address ; how the returning multitude sang the • Old
English Gentleman ' before the house of the donor ;
how the following day was devoted to the artisans'
celebration of the girt, when six thousand persons
were in the grounds ; and bow the third day was the
children's jubilee, when all the children in the town
had their holiday — all this, and much more, is held in
pleasant remembrance by the inhabitants, and was
tally recorded in the local newspapers at the time.

Tue plot of ground thus nobly given has been esti-
mated in value, with the expense of laying out under

the direction of Mr. Loudon, at between ten and
twelve thousand pounds. It is situated on the Os-
maston Road, in tne southern part of the town. A
neat lodge points out the entrance ; and on passing
within the sates, situated on the right of the lodge, we
find a broad straight path extending onwards to a dis-
tance of five or six hundred feet, and smaller winding
paths branching off to the right and left. If we follow
either of these paths, say to the left, we find that it
winds round pleasant hillocks or mounds, artificially
constructed to diversify the scene; and occasionally
small circular or oval beds or plots of ground arc seen,
planted with small shrubs. All the various walks lead
into each other at different points, and together exceed
a mile in length. Here ana there, wherever a favour-
able position occurs, seats and benches are placed ; and
at three or four spots arbours, summer-houses, or
pavilions are provided.

In a pamphlet which Mr. Loudon has published
concerning the Arboretum, he has given his reasons
for selecting . (or recommending to the selection of
Mr. Strutt) the existing arrangement, of a collection
of trees and shrubs, foreign and indigenous, rather
than a botanic garden or a mere pleasure-ground. In
accordance with the plan adopted a considerable col-
lection of trees* has been planted ; and in order to
instruct the visitor as far as possible in the nature of
the several trees, small tablets are fixed in the ground
near each tree; each tablet consisting of a brick sup-
port, in which is imbedded a small porcelain slab,
containing the inscription. The inscription in most
cases gives the number of the tree (as referred to in a
catalogue), the Latin or scientific name, the English
name, the habitat, the full-grown height, the date of
the introduction into England, &c.

At various parts of the ground arc boards stuck up,
bearing inscriptions which contrast favourably with
the 'steel- trap* and • spring-gun' announcements, so
familiar to field ramblers. They run thus : — " This
Arboretum has been given to the public for their ad-
vantage and enjoyment, and is placed under their
special care and protection. It is hoped, therefore, that
the public will assist in protecting the trees and shrubs
and seats from injury, and in preserving the property
which has been devoted to their use."

In one of the lodges attached to the Arboretum is a
room for the temporary reception of visitors, and on a
table in this room is deposited a " suggestion-book," or
'* visitors' remark-book," in which any visitors so dis-
posed may write down any remarks which may be
suggested to their minds respecting the improvement
and condition of the Arboretum. The intention was
evidently a good one, and a few remarks are to be
found in the book worthy of attention, but unfor-
tunately such is not the character of the great ma-
jority of the entries.

It would be a pleasant thing to believe that similar
donations were made or about to be made by wealthy
men, whether nobles or manufacturers. We do not
know whether anything has been further done in the
matter; but it was announced in the 'Westminster
Review,' about two years ago: — "We have much
pleasure in being able to confirm the statement made
in some of the public papers, thajt the Duke of Nor-
folk has expressed his intention to give fifty acres of
land to the town of Sheffield, for the benefit of its
inhabitants. The plans; however, respecting it are
not yet matured, as part of the ground is let, and will
not be in hand till Michaelmas."

With respect to the granting by the State of plots of
ground contiguous to busy towns for the purposes of
public recreation, there are two ways in which such a
thing could be effected ; either by granting some of
the crown lands, or purchasing ground from some

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other parties. The Regent's Park will serve to exem-
plify one of these methods ; while Primrose Hill and
the new Victoria Park exemplify the other. Those
who have been acquainted with the Regent's Park for
many years will remember that two or three distinct
portions of it have been thrown open to the public
from time to time. The portion within the " inner
circle " has been entirely leased off by the Crown (to
whom it belongs) for years past ; while the portion
between the 4 ' inner" and the "outer" circles was
cither leased or locked up from the public. Some few
years ago, however, the fine gravel walk, with a large
section of ground right and left of it, was thrown open
to the public ; and since then a still larger portion,
comprising nearly all the north-west section, with
paths and picturesque suspension-bridges, has been
similarly placed at the public disposal. How cheer-
fully the gift has been received need not be told.

Primrose Hill affords an instance of purchase on
the part of the .Crown for the good of the people. It
was, we believe, some three or four years ago contem-
plated to form a cemetery in this favourite Londoner's
nill ; but the government was induced to purchase it
and the adjacent ground to the extent of nearly sixty
acres, at 300/. per acre, from Eton College and Lord
Southampton, to whom it belonged. Arrangements
are now being made for forming a picturesque and
beautiful connection between the Regent's Park and
the Hill.

The Victoria Park, now being laid out, occupies a
site eastward of Bethnal Green, and is bounded on
two of its sides by the Regent's Canal and the Lea
Union Canal. It contains about two hundred and
ninety acres, and is proposed to be laid out in a very
elegant and park-like manner. If, as seems to be in-
tended, handsome houses be built around it, and the
more wealthy of the inhabitants of the eastern parts of
the metropolis were to reside there, very great good
would ensue to the whole neighbourhood. The ex-
penses of this undertaking will be defrayed (or partly
defrayed) by the sale to the Duke of Sutherland of the
mansion in St. James's Park, once known as York
House, but now Stafford House. The sale of the man-
sion and the purchase of the site for the Park have
been sanctioned by an Act of Parliament expressly for
that purpose.

That such Parks for the people may be provided in
or near all our busy towns is an event to be hoped for
by all well-wishers of the working community.

England in the Time of the Saxons. — It is a remarkable fact,
and One which has scarcely been sufficiently adverted to, that,
with very few exceptions indeed, all the towns, and even the vil-
lages and hamlets, which England yet possesses, apjx»ar to have
existed from the Saxon times. This is in general sufficiently at-
tested by their mere names, and there is historical evidence of
the fact in a large proportion of instances. Our towns and vil-
lages have become individually larger, in most cases, in the
course of the last eight or ten centuries ; but iu all that space of
time no very great addition has been made to their uumber.
The augmentation which the population and wealth of the coun-
try have undergone, vast as it has been in the course of so many
ages, has nearly all found room to collect and arrange itself round
the old centres. This fact docs not disprove the magnitude of
the increase which has been made to the numbers of the people ;
Ibr the extension of the circumference, without any multiplica-
tion of the centres, would suffice to absorb any such increase,
however great ; but seeing how thickly covered the country ac-
tually is with towns and villages, it is certainly very curious to
reflect that they were very nearly* as numerous over the greater
part of it in the time of the Saxons. And if only about twenty-
eight of our cities and towns, or even twice that number, can be
traced to a Roman original, the number indebted to the Saxons
for their first foundation must be very great j for, as we have
seen, nearly all that are not Roman are Saxon. As for our vil-

lages, the undoubted fact that the present division of the country
into parishes is, almost without any alteration, as old at least as
the tenth century, would alone prove that the English vil-
lages in the Saxon times were nearly as numerous as at the

present day Let it be conceded that many of the

villages were very small, consisting, perhaps, of only a dozen
or two of cottages ; still we apprehend the facts imply a dif-
fusion of population and of cultivation, vastly beyond what
can be supposed to have taken place in the preceding or Roman
period, during which, indeed, the country was traversed in
various directions by noble roads, and ornamented with some
considerable towns, but does not appear, from any notices that
have come down to us, or any monuments or signs that remain,
to have been generally covered with villages of any description.
— Pictorial History of England, vol. i., book ii., chap. 7, * History
of the Condition of the People/

London and Dublin Weather. — If the Dublin table be com-
pared with that of London, several interesting results will be at
once perceived. In Dublin, the average number of days of no
rain is only 150, whilst in Loudon it is 220 : but at the same
time the number of fair days il less in London ; to that the com-
parison would stand thus :-—

No Rain. Fair. No Rain and Fair.

Dublin 150 ... 50 ... 20"*
Londou 220 ... 10 ... 230

70 in favour of 46 in favour of
London. Dublin.

24 iu favour of
Loudon.

And in like manner —

Light Showers. Rainy.
Dublin 41 .... 94 . .
London 33 . . » • 82 • •

Heavy Rain.
. . 24
. . 21

6 12 3

The actual difference of the climate, as to the number of rainy
days estimated on six years, is therefore 24 in favour of Londou ;
the greater proportion of which falls into the class of partly wet
and partly fair, the number of days of very heavy rain being
nearly the same. The range of variation in the number of days
of no rain was nearly equal in both countries j but, combiuiug
no rain and fair, there was lew variation iu the climate of
Dublin than in that of Londou.

No Rain. No Rain and Fuir.

Dublin. Loudon. Dublin. London.
1837 . . 177 . . 212 . . 216 . . 247
1841 . . 120 . . 188 . . 197 . . 205

57 54 19 42

The number of days of heavy rain varies from 18 to 32 in
Dublin, from 16 to 30 in Loudon ; but it is remarkable that the
years do not in this respect correspond, 1841 being the year of
least heavy rain iu Dublin, and 1839 that of the most; 1837
the year of least, 1841 of most, in Loudon ; and this difference,
consequent on the different local position of the place, is also
observable iu the actual quantities of rain. — Report on the Geo-
logy of Londonderry, by Capt. Portlock.

Nelson at Trafalgar. — The interest which we all feel in every-
thing relating to Nelson will be a sufficient excuse for my insert-
ing in this place a correction of a statement in Sou they *s Life of
him, which, as there given, imputes a very unworthy and child-
ish vanity to him, of which on that particular occasion he was
wholly innocent. It is said that Nelson wore on the day of the
action of Trafalgar, " his admiral's frock-coat, bearing on the
led breast four stars ;" that his officers wished to speak to him
on the subject, but were afraid to do so, knowing that it was use-
less, he having said on a former occasion, when requested to
change his dress or to cover his stars, " In honour I gained them,
and in honour I will die with them." The truth is, that Nelson
wore on the day of Trafalgar the same coat which he had com-
monly worn for weeks, on which the order of the Bath was em-
broidered, as was then usual. Sir Thomas Hardy did notice it
to him, observing that he was afraid the badge might be marked,
by the enemy; to which Nelson replied, that " He was aware of
that, but that it was too late then to shift a coat." This account
rests ou the authority of Sir Thomas Hardy, from whom it was
heard by Captain Smyth, and by him communicated to me.—
Note in Dr. Arnold's Lectures on Modern History.

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[The Eastern extremity of the Church, v ith the Altar, Sec]

THE TEMPLE CHURCH.

[Concluded from page 131.]

It has been said that the Round is deficient in colour,
and there can be no doubt that in comparison with the
chancel, or oblong part beyond, it is so ; whether that
be a defect or the reverse depends on which of two
principles of art we favour; for it does not seem
certain what the original arrangement of this matter
was. The benchers had therefore the alternatives of
raising the whole of the decorations up to such a
point that, the moment the spectator entered, he should
be surrounded by all the splendour that the church
had to exhibit, thereby producing an instantaneous and
powerful, but not increasing effect,— or to conduct him
From the sober realities of the outer world up to the
gorgeous magnificence of the altar, through a succes-
sion of transitive stages : first, a doorway sculptured
only ; then a magnificent vestibule (the Round), where
rich colours begin to appear, but still subordinate to
the architecture ; and filially, of the chief portion of
the chancel itself, revelling in the most intimate and

happy union of painting and architecture, and only less
ricn and glorious than the last compartment of the co-
lumnar vista. The second of these methods is the one
which has been adopted by the benchers; and if a
little more colour could be added to the Round — the
large spaces of blank wall rendered a little less con-
spicuously blank — we think that method the best one.
The period of the erection of the Temple Church
was precisely that which offered the best opportunities
for rich decoration. The Crusaders, however little they
liked the Saracens, were much smitten with their mag-
nificence ; and every ship that returned brought no
doubt fresh importations of Eastern taste, with proba-
bly materials of various kinds — as designs — to diffuse
such taste in England, and possibly even Oriental
artists themselves. The spectator, therefore, who has
just advanced into the church, and stands bewildered
with the magical scene before him — all the old tales
of childhood, with its fairy palaces and gardens of en-
chanted fruit, such as the « Arabian Nights • opened
into his heart once and for ever, crowding upon him
—need not be surprised at the Eastern character of the

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arabesques, which in many a flowery maze play over
all the compartments of the roof, and entwine about
its groinings down to the very capitals of the pillars
which support them. These last, four in number on
each side, are, like the pillars of the Round, clustered,
exceedingly elegant and stately-looking, and of a
finely- veined dark (Purbeck) marble. A series of
smaller clustered columns against the wall, and rest-
ing on the stone seat which extends along the base of
the latter through the entire church, supports in a si-
milar manner the roof of each aisle. The more con-
spicuous ornaments in the roof of the nave differ from
those in the aisles : in the first we see in alternate
compartments the societies' emblems in small circles,
the Jamb on a red ground, and the horse on a blue ;
and in the second the two banners used by the Tem-
plars — one a flag, half white for their friends, and half
black for their enemies, with the dreaded war-cry
" Beauseant" — the other the Maltese-like cross : with
these is interspersed a device used by them, copied
from a seal belonging to the Temple now in the M u-
seum, representing the Christian cross triumphing
over the Saracenic crescent. .

These remarks apply with equal force to the painted
windows, those of tne east end, over and at each side
of the altar, being one blaze of gorgeous hues, and the
window in the centre of the south side being equally
conspicuous for the general chasteness of its design
and the intense richness of their few masses of colour,
which are confined to the figures of the angels playing
ancient musical instruments, three in the cenlral light,
and one in each of the others. As to the chief of the
eastern windows, the eye at first feels lost amidst what
appears at some distance only a marvellous combina-
tion of the minutest possible pieces of glass of different
hues ; and, delighted with the harmony evolved from
the combination, is content to be lost: but as we
approach nearer, the whole resolves itself into a thou-
sand beautiful designs ; and at last we perceive standing
out from the rest a long series of pictures illustrating
all the more important acts and events in the life of
Christ. Immediately beneath this window is the altar,
where the arcade of small trefoil bended arches, and
the fretted and canopied panels in the centre, the
capitals of the pillars, and the elegantly sculptured
heads, are all ricnly gilded, yet without producing any
sense of gaudiness or tasteless profusion. In the
centre panel is a large cross, with the letters I. H. C.,
and surrounded by small golden stars on a ground of
the heavenly tincture. The altar-table is covered with
a crimson velvet cloth, sumptuously embroidered in

S>ld. Everywhere, indeed, we meet with evidences of
e untiring zeal and liberality which have directed
all the recent operations. The very seats could furnish
employment for an hour or two in the mere examina-
tion of the oak carvings so thickly strewed over them
in the shape of heads, which are as remarkable for
their variety as admirable for their expression, animals,
flowers, fruit, and foliage. The designs are chiefly if
not entirely from the casts in Mr. Cottenham's collec-
tion, taken by him from the original works in the chief
cathedrals by means of what is technically called squeezes,
that is, pressing with the hand a suitable plastic ma-
terial—a kind of prepared clay — on the carving or
sculpture to be copied, and which as it hardens becomes
a mould for the cast.

On removing the organ from the central archway,
it was found a difficult matter to decide upon a new
and suitable position. At last a happy thought oc-
curred to some one, which, after long discussion and
consultation between the Benchers, aided by the advice
of some of the most eminent architects, led to its being
placed immediately behind the central window of the I
north side, in a chamber erected for it ; the window |

itself stripped of its glass, and having an additional
slender marble shaft added in the place of each division
wall between the three lights, forming a very band-
some open screen to the brilliantly painted aud gilded
pipes behind, with their noble Gothic canopy. The
organ has lately been reconstructed, in order to receive
all the best modern improvements : when we add that
it was previously distinguished as one of the best in-
struments in England, our readers may judge of its
quality now. It was built by the well-known Schmidt,
who, when the Societies, in the reign of Charles II.,
determined to erect one of the best organs that could
be obtained, offered himself in rivalry with Harris to
undertake the work. The makers were both so good
and so popular, that the Benchers, in despair of de-
ciding satisfactorily to all parties, in that preliminary
stage of the affair, made a very ingenious proposal that
each should erect an organ in the Temple, and they
would keep the best. This was done, and with such
success by both, that the Benchers, unable to determine
in favour of either, were at last obliged, in order to
put an end to the contest, which excited the whole
musical world in a most extraordinary degree, to con-
fide the final judgment to chief-justice Jefferies, who
chose Schmidt's organ. The other was subsequently
divided, and part erected at St. Andrew's, Hoi born ;
the remainder found its way to Christ Church Cathe-
dral, Dublin. The Temple choir consists of fourteen
voices, six men's and eight boys' : full cathedral ser-
vice is performed. Beneath the organ-chamber is a
low vestry-room, where, among other memorials, is the
bust of Lord Thurlow, buried in the vaults of the
church, and the tablet erected by the Benchers to
Goldsmith, who lies in the paved court adjoining to
that side of the building which was till recently the
burying-ground. These are to be removed to the
tri fori urn, or gallery surrounding the Rotunda, where
are all the monuments formerly in the different parte
of the church, chiefly of the period of Elizabeth and
James. Among them is that of Plowden, the eminent
lawyer, who was buried here, as was also Seldeh. On
the side of the circular stairs, in the wall of the
northern aisle, which leads to the triforium, is a small
space hollowed out, not large enough for a man to lie
down in at full length, with two slit holes as windows,
overlooking respectively the two different portions of
the church. This was the penitential hell of the Tem-
plars, aud terrible have been the penances inflicted here,
if we may judge from the record of one fact : — " Walter
le Bachelor, grand preceptor of Ireland, was placed
here in irons by the master, and left till he died: the
corpse was then taken out at daybreak, and buried
between the church and the adjoining hall." Descending
again into the church, and throwing one last lingering
look around, we notice the painted figures over the
three archways, which represent respectively, beginning
on the left, Henry I., contemporary with the foundation
of the Order, with the black and white banner ; Stephen
with the cross, for which in his reign they exchanged
the said device; Henry II., in whose reign the Round
was built, as you see by the model in his hand ; Richard I.,
with a sword allusive to his exploits as the first of Eng-
lish monarchs who joined personally in the Crusades ;
John ; and lastly, Henry III., holding a model of the
entire church, tne chancel having been added in his
reign : — an interesting series of historical portraits in
connection with the Knights Templars, but which, like
the procession where Brutus's statue was not, suggests
most by its (necessary) incompleteness. All are here
that the Templars would have placed here : but not
the less are we reminded of Edward I., and his pious
visit to his mother's jewels in the Temple, whicn, by
some peculiar mental process, ended in his carrying
away ten thousand pounds from the Templars' coffers ;

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or of Edward II., who, after long dallying between
the desire to break up the Order for the sake of its
possessions, and the consciousness of the monstrous
wrong that desire involved, yielded to the temptations
held out by the example of the King of France, and,
on the 8th of January, 1308, caused the Templars
throughout England suddenly to be arrested ana im-
prisoned ; and though the excessive barbarities of the
French government, where actually thirty-six out of
one batch of one hundred and forty prisoners perished
under the torture, were not imitated here — no bonfires
lighted for such wholesale destruction as the burning
of fifties at a time — yet it appears torture was resorted
to in England to make the unhappy Templars confess
the odious, absurd, and all but impossible crimes
which Philip of France, the guiding spirit of the move-
ment throughout Europe, had determined should be
fastened upon them. With the exception of a chaplain
and two serving-men, the English members remained
firm ; and as Edward was not prepared to go the
entire length of Philip, of killing them one way or
another unless they did confess, a lucky discovery was
made, which, to a certain extent, relieved all parties.
The Templars had believed their master had the power
of absolution : this it was now most carefully and dis-
passionately pointed out was a grievous heresy, as the
master was a layman : did they wish to persevere in
heresies ? Oh, certainly not : the Templars were quite
willing to abjure that as well as every other heresy.
Great was the apparent joy of the church ministers
who had the direction of tne affair ; one body after
another publicly affirmed this declaration ; and lo ! the
whole were reconciled to the Christian community.
As to the charges on which they had been arrested
and tortured, and their possessions seized, it was mar-
vellous to see the utter forgetfulness on all sides : not
so, however, as to the goodly possessions themselves.
The Order was finally abolished in 1312, and the pro-
perty in England directed to bo transferred to the Hos-
pitallers of St. John, to whom Edward did ultimately
hand over some portion thereof, possibly about a
twentieth. The site and building soon after fell into
the hands of the students of law, whose successors have
now, after a lapse of five centuries, shown so nobly
their sense of the value of the building and the memo-
ries committed to their charge.

PROGRESSES OF QUEEN ELIZABETH.

No. IV.

OXFORD UNIVERSITY.

Thr Queen appears to have commenced her progress
in 1566, in August or the latter end of July. On
August 3rd she was at Collcyweston in Northampton, a
royal house, of which Cecil's grandfather, David, had
been made steward by Henry VIII. She removed
from thence on the 5th to Burghley, near Stamford, the
splendid seat of the secretary, and from thence by
Woodstock, arrived on the 31st at Oxford.

The reception was splendid. At Wolvercot the
Earl of Leicester, the Chancellor, four doctors in their
scarlet habits, and eight masters, heads of houses, with
numerous attendants, met her, welcomed her with a
Latin oration, and conducted her towards the city ; when
within half a mile of it the mayor and corporation re-
ceived her, delivered up the mace, which was returned,
spoke an English oration, which was answered, and pre-
sented her with a " cup of silver, double gilt, worth 10/.
and in it about 40/. in old gold," which were kept.
" This gift," says Wood, " was the first in money that
ever, as I can yet learn, was presented to a prince : for
at the coming of any one to the University before this
time, the custom was, that the citizens should give

them five oxen, as many sheep, veals, lambs, and
sugar-loaves; but this Humerus quinarius was now
altered by Sir Francis Knolleys, the city steward, and
converted into money, which yet continues." Another
speech was made on her entering the city in the name
of the scholars, and on reaching Quartervois (Carfax)
an oration was made to her by the Professor of Greek,
in that language, which she answered in the same,
though professing to be in so great a company "some-
what abashed." After another oration, leaving her
"rich chariot," she entered the venerable Norman
edifice, at once the Cathedral church of the diocese and
the chapel of Christ Church College, four doctors hold-
ing a canopy over her, and placing her on the right
side of the choir ; where, on being seated, and having
said her prayers, the dean deliverer a thanksgiving for
her arrival, after which * 4 was an anthem, called 2>
Deum, sung to cornets." Thus devotionally was the
day closed, she departing from thence to her lodging
in the college ; of which the gates and walls by which
she passed were decorated with copies of verses in
Latin and Greek.

On the following day, Sunday, September 1, her
Majesty was indisposed in the morning, but was enter-
tained in her chamber by a " Latin oration, with two
Greek verses at the end, delivered by " a very pretty
boy, named Peter Carew," with which she was much
pleased. In the afternoon she attended divine service,
out was not present at a Latin play called * Marcus
Geminus/ which was exhibited in the evening on a
stage erected in Christ Church Hall, though on hear-
ing it highly commended by the Spanish ambassador,
Don Guzman dc Sylva, she remarked, " In troth 1
will lose no more sport hereafter, for the good report
1 hear of these your good doings."

Her Majesty kept within her lodgings chiefly on
Monday, being entertained uith a book of all the
prophets, translated out of the Hebrew, and a little
book of Latin verses, containing the description of
every College, Public School, and Hall, &c., presented
to her by the author, Mr. Thomas Neale, the Hebrew
Professor. The verses have been preserved, and are
in the form of a dialogue between the Queen and the
Chancellor of the University, but contain nothing
worth quoting. At night she attended the repiesen-
tation of a play in Christ Church Hall, ' Pakemon, or
Palamon Arcyte,' made by Mr. Richard Edwards. It
is difficult to imagine the mode in which this subject
was treated, from the description given of its effects.
It was in two parts. At the commencement of the
first part on this evening, a part of the stage fell ; a
scholar of St. Mary's Hall, the cook of Corpus Christi
College, and a brewer were killed, besides five that
were hurt. The Queen sent her surgeons, and com-
manded they should want no necessary assistance ; but
afterwards " the actors performed their parts so well
that the Queen laughed heartily thereat, and gave the
author of the play great thanks for his pains." On the
night of Wednesday the 4th, " the Queen was present
at the other part of the play of ' Palaemon and Arcy te,'
which should have been acted the night before, but de-
ferred because it was late when the Queen came from
disputations at St. Mary's. When the play was ended,
she called for Mr. Edwards, the author, and gave him
very great thanks, with praises of reward for his pains :
then making a pause, said to him, and her retinue
standing about her, this relating to part of the play ;
• By Palaemon, I warrant he dallieth not in love when
he was in love indeed ; by Arcyte, he was a right
martial knight, having a swart countenance and a
manly face; by Trecatio, God's pity, what a knave he
is ; by Perithous throwing St. Edward's rich cloak
into the funeral fire, which a stander-by would have
stayed by the arm with an oath, Go, fool, he knoweth

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his part, I warrant.' In the said play wai acted a cry
of hounds in the quadrant, upon the train of a fox in
the hunting of Theseus, with which the young scholars,
who stood in the windows, were so much taken (sup-
posing it was real), that they cried out, • How, now !' —
•there, there!' — *he*s caught, he's caught!' Ail
which the Queen merrily beholding, said, * Oh excel-
lent ! those boys, in very troth, are ready to leap out of
the windows, to follow the hounds ' This part it seems
being repeated before certain courtiers, in the lodgings
of Mr. Robert Marbeck, one of the canons of Christ
Church, by the players in their gowns (for they were all
scholars that acted) before the Queen came to Oxford,
was by them so well liked, that they said it far surpassed
* Damon and Pythias,* than which, they thought, nothing
could be better. Likewise some said, that if the author
did any more before his death, he would run mad ; but
this comedy was the last he made ; for he died within
a few months after. In the acting of the said play,
there was a good part performed by the Lady Amelia,
who, for gathering her flowers prettily in a garden then
represented, and singing sweetly in the time of march,
received eight angels for a gracious reward by her
Majesty's command."

The t Damon and Pythias,' which this play is so stated
to exceed, yet remains to us, and may perhaps give us
some notion of * Palemon and Arcite.' While the ground-
work of the fable is taken from the classical story, all
the supplementary parts are English, and of the
coarsest humour. We give a short specimen of this
play, as it was also acted before the Queen, and shows
the nature of the entertainments that gave so much
delight. Will and Jack are the servants of two of the
courtiers of Dionysius, who, meeting with Grim, the
court collier, who supplies, as he says, the " king's
mouth" with coals, tney relate to him how the king
suffers no barber to come near him, but makes his
daughters perform that office. The collier, who is
somewhat drunk, expresses a strong wish that they
would operate on him :

tf I would give one sack of coals to be washed at their hands;
If ich came so near them, for my wit cbould*not give three chips,
If ich could not steal out swap from their lips."

On this hint the two rascally servants act, promis-
ing to dress him in the fashion the king's daughters
dress their father, intending by this means to rob him :
he consents, and one fetches a barbers basin, razor, a
pair of spectacles, &c.

" Jack, Come, mine own Father Grim, sit down.

Grim, Mass, to begin wit hall, here is a trim chair.

Jack. What, man, I will use you like a prince : sir boy, fetch
me my gear.

mO, Here, sir.

Jack, Hold up, Father Grim.

Orim, Me seem my head doth swim.

Jack, My costly perfumes make that. — Away with this ; sir
boy, be quick x
Aloyse, aloysef, how pretty it is! is not here a good facet
A fine owl s eyes, a mouth like an oven.
Father, you have good butter-teeth, full seen (soon).
You were weaned, else you would have been a great calf.
Ab, trim lira to sweep a manger ! here is a chin
As soft as the hoof of a horse.

Grim. Doth the king s daughters rub so hard

Jack. Hold your head straight, man, else all will be marred.
By'r Lady, you are of good complexion,
A right Croydon sanguine, beshrewr me.
Hold up, Father Grim. — Will, can you bestir ye?

Grim. Methinks after a marvellous fashion ye do besmeare me.

Jack. It is with unguentum of Daucus Maucus, that is very
costly.

* This is an imitation of tne Somersetshire dialect. Ich is ' 1/
and is incorporated into many other words—as chould, ( I would ;'
cham, ' I am.' Shakspere use* the same dialect in « Lear.'

f Aloyse, ' praise. 1

I give not this washing hall to every body :

After you have been drest so finely at my hand,

You may kiss anv lady's lips within this land.

Ah, you are trimly wash'd ! how say you, is not this trim water ?

Grim. It may be wholesome, but it is vengeance sour.

Jack. It scours the better. — Sir boy, give me my rasor.

Will. Here, at hana, sir.

Grim, God's aims! 'tis a chopping* knife, 'tis no rasor.

Jack. It is a rasor, and that a very good one.
It came lately from Palermo ; it cost me twenty crowns alone.
Your eyes datsle after your washing, these spectacles put on :
Now view this rasor ; tell me, is it not a good one?

Grim, They be gay barnacles, yet I see never the better.

Jack. Indeed they he a young sight, and that is the matter.
But I warrant you this razor is very easy.

Grim. Go too, then, since you begun, do as please ye.

Jack. Hold up, Father Grim.

Grim. Oh ! your raior doth hurt my lip.

Jack. No, it scrapeth off a pimple, to ease you'of the pip.
I have done now : how say you ? are you not well ?

Grim. Cham lighter than ich was, the truth to tell."

The knaves have now robbed him. This is a very
favourable example of the fun at which our forefathers
laughed, and the whole play illustrates the principle
on which much of the early English drama was con-
structed. The main incident is taken from Grecian
story, the scene is laid in Syracuse, but the author's
intention is evidently not to illustrate or exhibit Gre-
cian manners or customs, but human passion and cha-
racter in general ; therefore Edwards, though a classi-
cal scholar, has no more hesitation in making his
classical personages discourse as though they were
contemporary with the period — Aristippus, for instance,
alludes to the 'Three Cranes in the Vintry ' — than he
has in making them speak English, or in giving Eng-
lish names to their associates. Edwards nad a high
character at the time, not only as a poet, but as a
musical composer. We believe none of his musical
compositions are extant, but the following song, sung
by Pythias in the same play, may give a notion of
his ideas of melody, and serve as an example of the
lyrical poetry of the time : —

" Awake, ye woeful wights,

That long have wept in woe :
Besign to me your plaints and tears,

My hapless hap to show.
My woe no tongue can trll,
Nor pen can well descrie [describe] :
O what a death is this to hear !
Damon my friend must die.
The loss of worldly wealth

Man's wisdom may restore,
And physic hath provided too

A salve for every sore :

But my true friend once lost.

No art can well supply :

Then what a death is this to hear I
Damon my friend must die.
My mouth refuse the food

That should my limbs sustain :
Let sorrow sink into my breast,

And ransack every vein.
You furies, all at once
On me your torments try :

Why should I live, since that I hear
Damon my friend must die ?
Gripe me, you greedy griefs,

And present pangs of death ;
You sisters three, with cruel hands,

With speed, come stop my breaths
Shrine me in clay alive,

Some good man stop mine eye :
O death, come now, seeing I hear
Damon my friend must die."

[To be continued.!

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[Tuddeo Gsddi (1) and Andrea Oicagua (2), with a view of the Campo S.iulo. 1

ESSAYS ON THE LIVES OF REMARKABLE
PAINTERS.— No. VII.

OlOTTO AND HIS SCHOLARS — THE CAMPO SANTO.
[Continued from p. 133.]

This scholars and imitators of Giotto, who adopted the
new method (il nuovo metodo), as it was then called,
and who collectively are distinguished as the ' Scuola
Giottesca* may be divided into two classes: — 1. Those
who were merely his assistants and imitators, who
confined themselves to the reproduction of the models
left by their master. 2. Those who, gifted with ori-
ginal genius, followed his example rather than his in-
structions, pursued the path he had opened to them,
introduced better methods of study? more correct
design, and carried on in various departments the
advance of art into the succeeding century.

no. 709.

Of the first it is not necessary to speak. Among
the men of great and original genius who immediately
succeeded Giotto, three must be especially men-
tioned for the importance of the works they have left,
and for the influence they exercised on those who came
after them. These were Andrea Orcagna, Simone'
Memmi, and Taddeo Gaddi.

The first of these, Andrea Cioni, commonly called
Andrea Orcagna, did not study under Giotto, but owed
much indirectly to that vivifying influence which he
breathed through art. Andrea was the son of a gold-
smith at Florence. The goldsmiths of the fourteenth
and fifteenth centuries were in general excellent de-
signers and not unfrequently became painters, as in
the instances of Francia, Verrocelico, Andrea del
Sarto, &c. Andrea apparently learned design under
the tuition of his father. Rosini plaofs his birth
previous to the year 1310 : m the year 1332 he had

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[April 22,

already acquired so much celebrity, that he was called
upon to continue the decoration of the Campo Santo
at Pisa.

This seems the proper place to give a more detailed
account of one of the most extraordinary and interest-
ing monuments of the middle ages. The Campo
Santo of Pisa, like the cathedral at Assisi, was an
arena in which the best artists of the time were sum-
moned to try their powers ; but the influence of the
frescoes in the Campo Santo on the progress and deve-
lopment of art was yet more direct and important than
that of the paintings in the church of Assisi.

The Campo Santo, or the " Holy Field/' once a
cemetery, though no longer used as such, is an open
space of about four hundred feet in length and one
hundred and eighteen feet in breadth, enclosed with
high walls, and an arcade, something like the cloisters
of a monastery or cathedral, running all round it. On
the east side is a large chapel, and on the north two
smaller chapels, where prayers and masses arc cele-
brated for the repose of the dead. The open space
was filled with earth brought from the Holy Land by
the merchant-ships of Pisa, which traded to the Levant
in the days of its commercial splendour. This open
space, once sown with graves, is now covered with
green turf. At the four corners are four tall cypress-
trees, their dark, monumental, spiral forms contrasting
with a little lowly cross in the centre, round which ivy
or some other creeping plant has wound a luxuriant
bower. The beautiful Gothic arcade was designed
and built about 1283 by Giovanni Pisano, the son of
the great Nicola Pisano already mentioned. This
arcade, on the side next the burial-ground, is pierced
by sixty-two windows of elegant tracery divided from
each other by slender pilasters ; upwards of six hundred
sepulchral monuments of the nobles and citizens of
Pisa are ranged along the marble pavements, and
mingled with them are some antique remains of great
beauty, which the Pisans in former times brought from
the Greek Isles. Here also is seen the famous sar-
cophagus which first inspired the genius of Nicola
Pisano, and in which had been deposited the body of
Beatrix, mother of the famous countess Matilda.*
The walls opposite to the windows were painted in the
fourteenth and fifteenth centuries with scriptural sub-
jects. Most of these are half ruined by time, neglect,
and damp ; some only present fragments ; here an
arm — there a head ; and the best preserved are faded,
discoloured, ghastly in appearance, and solemn in sub-
ject. The whole aspect of this singular place, particu-
larly to those who wander through its long arcades at
the close of day, when the figures on the pictured
walls look dim and spectral through the gloom, and
the cypresses assume a blacker hue, and all the associa-
tions connected with its sacred purpose and its history
rise upon the fancy, has in its silence and solitude,
and religious destination, something inexpressibly
strange, dreamy, solemn, almost awful. Seen in the
broad glare of noonday, the place and the pictures
lose something of their power over the fancy, and that
which last night haunted us as a vision, to-day we ex-
amine, study, criticise.

The building of the Campo Santo was scarcely
finished when the best painters of the time were sum-
moned to paint the walls all round the interior with
appropriate subjects. This was a work of many years :
it was indeed continued at intervals through two cen-
turies ; and thus we have a series of illustrations of the
progress of art during its first development, of the re-
ligious influences of the age, and even of the habits and
manners of the people, which are faithfully exhibited
in some of these inoBt extraordinary compositions.

Those first executed, in the large chapel and on the
* Sec Escay II., No. 698.

walls of the cloisters, at the end of the thirteenth and in
the very beginning of the fourteenth century, have
perished wholly : the earliest in date which still exist
represent the Passion of our Saviour in a rude but
solemn style. We find here the accompaniments usual
in this subject from the earliest time, and which, from
their perpetual repetition down to a late period,
appear to be traditional ; the lamenting angels, the
sorrowing women, the Virgin fainting at the foot of
the cross. Two angels at the head of the repentant
thief prepare to carry his soul into Paradise; two
demons perched on the cross of the reprobate thief are
ready to seize his spirit the moment it is released, and
bear it to the regions below. This fresco and another
have been traditionally attributed to the BufTulmacco
of facetious memory, already mentioned; but this is
now supposed to be an error.

A series of subjects from the Boo'k of Job was
painted by Giotto ; of these only fragments remain.
Then followed Andrea Orcagna ; and the subjects
selected by him were such as harmonized peculiarly
with the destination of these sacred precincts: they
were to represent in four great compartments what
the Italians call • Iquatiro novissimij i. e. the four last
or latest things — Death, Judgment, Hell or Purgatory,
and Paradise ; but only three were completed.

The first is styled the Triumph of Death (// Trionfo
delta Morte). It is full of poetry, and abounding in
ideas then new in pictorial art. On the right is a
festive company of ladies and cavaliers, who by their
falcons and dogs appear to be returned from the
chase. They are seated under orange-trees, and
splendidly attired ; rich carpets are spread at their
feet. A troubadour and singing-girl amuse them
with flattering songs ; Cupids flutter around them
and wave their torches. All the pleasures of sense
and joys of earth are here united. On the left
Death approaches with rapid flight — a fearful-looking
woman with wild streaming hair, claws instead of
nails, large bats' wings, and indestructible wire-
woven drapery. She swings a scythe in her hand,
and is on the point of mowing down the joys of the
company, (This female impersonation of Death is
supposed to be borrowed from Petrarch, whose
* Trionfo della Morte * was written about this time.)
A host of corpses closely pressed together lie at her
feet ; by their insignia they are almost ajl to be recog-
nised as tbe former rulers of the world, kings, queens,
cardinals, bishops, princes, warriors, &c. Their souls
rise out of them in the form of new-born infants;
angels and demons arc ready to receive them : the
souls of the pious fold their hands in prayer ; those of
the condemned shrink back in horror. The angels
are peculiarly yet happily conceived, with bird-like
forms and variegated plumage; the devils have the
semblance of beasts of prey or of disgusting reptiles.
They fight with each otner : on the right the angels
ascend to heaven with those they have saved ; while
the demons drag their prey to a fiery mountain,
visible on the left, and hurl the souls down into the
flames. Next to these corpses is a crowd of beggars
and crippies, who with outstretched arms call upon
Death to end their sorrows ; but she heeds not their
prayer, and has already passed them in her flight. A
rock separates this scene from another, in which is
represented a second hunting-party descending the
mountain by a hollow path : here again are richly-
attired princes and dames on horses splendidly capa-
risoned, and a train of hunters with falcons and dogs.
The path has led them to three open sepulchres in the
left corner of the picture ; in tnem he the bodies of
three princes, in different stages of decay. Close by,
in extreme old age and supported on crutches, stands
a monk, St Macarius, who, turning to the princes,

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points down to this bitter ' Memento mori.' They look
un apparently with indifference, and one of them holds
his nose, as if incommoded by the horrible stench. One
queenly lady alone, deeply moved, rests her head on her
hand, her countenance full of a pensive sorrow. On
the mountain heights are several nermits, who, in con-
trast to the followers of the joys of the world, have
attained in a life of contemplation and abstinence to a
state of tranquil blessedness. One of them milks a doe,
squirrels are sporting round him ; another sits and
reads, and a third looks down into the valley, where
the remains of the mighty are mouldering away. There
is a tradition that among the personages in these pic-
tures are many portraits of the artists contemporaries.

[To be continued.]

PROGRESSES OF QUEEN ELIZABETH.
No. V.

OXFORD UNIVERSITY.
[Concluded from p. 144.]

On the 3rd of September the Queen went on foot
with all her retinue to St. Mary's Church to hear dis-

Imtations in natural and moral philosophy, which
asted from four o'clock till six, with which she was
much pleased, exclaiming, " Excellent, O excellent!"
On the following morning there were more disputa-
tions in the hall of Merton College, which she also at-
tended : she then dined at Christ Church, and again
attended disputations in St. Mary's Hall in the civil
law, for " about four hours," previous to her witness-
ing the play already spoken of. She must have been
an admirable listener.

The 5th, Thursday, was again occupied by disputa-
tions in St. Mary's Church, when several of the ex-
hibitors were omitted " for want of time," and at six
o'clock the Queen concluded the act, " to the very
great delight and rejoicing of many hundred then
present," with a speech in Latin. She then supped,
and repaired to Christ Church Hall to witness the
performance of the Latin tragedy of* Progne/ by Dr.
James Calfhill, for which she gave him thanks, " but
it did not take half so well as the much-admired play
of * Palaemon and Arcytc.' " On the following day the
degree of Master of Arts was conferred on many of
the noblemen and gentlemen of her retinue, which was
followed by a Latin sermon in the Cathedral, at which
the Queen was not present, " being much wearied."
The Vice-chancellor and proctors afterwards presented
her, in the name of the University, with " six pairs of
very fine gloves ; and to divers noblemen and officers
of the Queen's fanjily some two, some one pair, very
thankfully accepted." After another oration she de-
parted with her retinue by Carfax to East Gate,
attended by the officials of the University and city, the
scholars and others standing in order, while the walls
were |* hung with innumerable sheets of verses, be-
moaning the Queen's departure, as did the counte-
nances of the laity (especially those of female sex) that
then beheld her.' On reaching the boundary of the
University jurisdiction at Shotover, an " eloquent
oration " was delivered, to which she answered, turn-
ing her face towards Oxford, ** Farewell, the worthy
University of Oxford; farewell, my good subjects
there ; farewell my dear scholars, and pray God pros-
per your studies ; farewell — farewell."

Notwithstanding her apparent affability and ex-
pressed satisfaction, there were many things in Oxford
that displeased ; and among the earliest of her acts on
her return to London were the issuing of orders for
the defacing and melting down of " plate remaining
in superstitious fashion," and the transmission to Lam-
beth of certain "superstitious books," among which

are enumerated mass-books, invitatories, psalters, a
" great prick-song book of parchment/' ana others on
vellum and on paper. She stopped on her return at
Rycott, and in the course ot the year visited Dr.
Heath, the deprived Archbishop of York, at Cobham.

In 1592, Lord Buckhurst being Chancellor, Queen
Elizabeth visited Oxford a second time, on Friday the
22nd of September, remaining till the 28th, when the
reception and entertainments were so entirely of the
same character as to render a repetition needless. But
the Queen does not appear to have been so patient an
auditor on this occasion as on the previous one.
During the oration of the Bishop of Hereford, in one
of the disputations, " Whether it be lawful to dissemble
in the cause of religion ?'* ** the Queen, being some-
what weary of it, sent twice to him to cut it short,
because herself intended to make a public speech that
evening ; but he would not, or, as some told ner, could
not put himself out of a set methodical speech for
fear he should have marred all, or else confounded his
memory. Wherefore, seeing it was so, she forbeared
her speech at that time, and more privately the next
morning sending for the heads of houses and other
persons, spake to them her mind in the Latin tongue
And among others there present, she schooled Dr.
John Reynolds for his obstinate preciseness, willing
him to follow her laws, and not run before them."
While in the midst of her speech, she noticed the old
Lord Treasurer Burleigh, who was lame, standing,
when she stopped, and would not proceed till a stool
was procured for him, and then " fell to it again as if
there had been no interruptibn." This, it was said, was
done as a satire on the bishop, " who durst not adven-
ture to do a less matter the day before ;" of another of
the speakers she remarked — " He had been already too
long ;" and several were cut short by the Proctors. On
Sunday evening she attended the representation in
Christ Church Hall of a comedy called * Bellum Gram-
matical ;' and on Tuesday of another called * Ri vales :'
of the nature of which we are told noihing, except
that her Majesty heard them " most graciously and
with great patience." A representation of the interior
of Christ Church Hall has already been given in
No. 182, together with several of the other buildings
and objects of interest in Oxford in that number and
No. 165. She was again accompanied on her depar-
ture to Shotover, and again " looking wistfully toward
Oxford, said to this effect in the Latin tongue : ' Fare-
well, farewell, dear Oxford, God bless thee, and in-
crease thy sons in number, holiness, and virtue,'" &c.
— a somewhat equivocal prayer perhaps.

In 1567 and the few following years we have little
or nothing beyond the mention of the places she
visited. On August 18, 1567, she was at Oatlands ; on
the 21st at Guildford ; on the 25th at Farnham ; and
on September 9th she arrived at Windsor, from
whence she had started. On July 4th, 1568, she was

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and where we shall meet her again in 1001, when
visiting his successor. In September she was at the
town of Southampton, from whence she issued an
order to the citizens of Coventry, displacing their
mayor, John Harford, for beating a man who had
meddled with his greyhounds, with a Walking-staff, so
that he died ; he was also forced to agree with the
man's wife for his pardon, and exempted from the
council for ever. The Queen then spent her Christ-
mas at Hampton Court, on account of the plague,
which was then " dispersed far abroad in London."

In the accounts of the Queen's purse, made up to
the end of this year (1568) from 1559, we find some
curious entries. Her practice in music is shown by
the entry of 74/. 13*. 4rf. for lute-strings for various
years, at the rate of 13/. 6*. 8rf. per annum ; one
great sackbutt, 15/.; 08/. 7*. I la. for perfumes;
painting-work. 0/. 13*. Ad. j 1804/. IB*. 10k/., for
articles connected with the wardrobe ; while the only
entry of a literary character is 1/. 6*. 8d. t for binding
four books.

(Th* Araecra of Scinde.]

SCINDE AND THE SCINDIANS.

There are many fairer portions of the earth than
Scinde, but if its rulers had allowed the resources of
the country to be freely developed, the Scindians might
have been a happy and prosperous people. The Ara-
bian Gulf, which on the east washes the coast of Mala-
bar, and on the west the coast of Arabia, is the southern
limit of Scinde ; and Curachee, the most western Scin-
dian tx>rt, is just at the mouth of the Gulf of Persia.
Scinde is bounded on the south by the sea, as already
stated; on the west by Beloochistan; on the north by
Afghanistan and the Punjaub ; and on the east it is
separated from II in dost an by a sterile and unproductive
tract of country. The exact limits over which the power
of the Ameers extended were not always very accurately
defined, as the weakness of a neighbour led them to
make encroachments upon his territory. Recently
the country ruled over by the Ameers comprised about

a hundred thousand square mile9 (nearly twice the
extent Of England), and the number of the inhabitant*
was about a million. Scinde was formerly a tributary
of the Affghan monarchy, but about sixty years since,
when the Douranee dynasty was in a tottering state,
a Belochee chief of the Talpoor tribe set up as a
ruler on his own account, but ne took the remarkable
course of admitting his three younger brothers to a
share of the power and cares or state, and they agreed
to reign together under the title of the Ameers or
Lords of Scinde. These four chiefs were long known
in the East by the appellation of the *Char Yar,' or
the four friends. One of the brothers died in 1801,
when the three remaining brothers partitioned the
country amongst them, and were nearly independent
of each other. Their relative position is shown by the
different amount of their respective revenues, for while
one had an annual income of fifteen lacs of rupees
(100.000/.), that of the two others did not exceed ten

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lacs in one case and five in the other. The most
powerful of the Ameers resided at Hyderabad, the
modern capital, where, in a massive tower within the
fort, a treasure was amassed, valued at twenty millions
sterling, thirteen of which were in specie and the
remainder in jewels. The revenue of the three Ameers
was nearly the total revenue of Scindc. There were a
few chiefs who possessed portions of the country, and
levied duties on their own account. There were
nobles of the Talpoor tribe always resident at the
court of the Ameers, all of whom enjoyed the title of
Ameer, but were not allowed any share in the affairs
of the state.

When Mr. Burnes visited Hyderabad in 1827, only
two of the Ameers were living. 80 jealous had they
been of the British government, that they had allowed
no European officer to cross their frontier from
the British province of Cutch on the south-east;
and during the Burmese war it became necessary to
overawe them by a display of force. Much surprise
therefore was excited when, laying aside their cold
and unfriendly attitude, they addressed a very friendly
letter to the Resident in Ctttch, requesting Mr. Burnes
to proceed to Hyderabad on account of the illness of
one of the Ameers. Mr. Burnes was pleased with
the good taste exhibited in his reception at their court.
" There was no gaudy show of tinsel or scarlet ; none
of that mixture of gorgeousness and dirt to be seen at
the courts of most Hindoo princes." But in matters
more important than these their conduct is deserving
only of condemnation, though the defects of education
may account partly for the narrow policy which they
pursued. Mr. Crow, in his account ot the tour Ameers,
written at the end of the last century, says, " The pre-
sent rulers of Scinde have been seen, it is said, tending
cattle in its jungles, and cooking their own meals.
Certain it is that their understandings, dispositions, and
manners betray great barbarity of education, and that
since their affluence they have derived little cultiva-
tion from literature or society." Though professing
great attachment to the Mohammedan religion, they
could not boast of a respectable mosque in their do-
minions; and, in spite of their wealth, they were,
according to Mr. Elphinstone, ignorant of elegance
or comfort.

The government of the Ameers was a harsh military
despotism, careless of the welfare of the people, re-
garding the extent of their treasure as the surest founda-
tion or power. The light in which the unproductive
mass of precious metals and stones at Hyderabad was
regarded, is a proof in itself of a barbarous and unen-
lightened mind. The taxes were enormous, and were
farmed to the highest bidders, chiefly Hindoos, who
alone possess capital. Trade and industry were para-
lysed by absurd restrictions and heavy duties. Mr.
Burnes says that it is "difficult to conceive a more
unpopular rule with all classes of their subjects than
that of the Ameers.*' The passion for hunting is in-
dulged in to a most extraordinary extent by the Ameers
ana other chiefs. They depopulated extensive and
productive tracts of country in order to make forests
and covers for game. It is no wonder, therefore, that
the people were in a wretched state, both in the towns
and villages. Hyderabad, the capital, situated on the
banks of the Indus, one hundred and thirty miles from
the sea, was little better than a collection of mud
hovels, and not much more substantial than those
found in the villages. Numbers of the people lived in
grass huts erected amidst their cultivated land ; and
when food or forage failed it was not unusual for a
whole village to be abandoned for a more favourable
station. The Scindians are described by the late Sir
Alexander Burnes, in his 'Memoir of the Indus/ as
passionate and proud, feelings which he ascribes to

their savage ignorance and jealousy, and they are na-
turally insincere, from living under a tyrannical go-
vernment ; but they are, he says, honest, and, under
peculiarly tempting circumstances, his property was
always respected. They are brave soldiers, and do not
display that passion for cavalry which distinguishes
other Asiatic people, but pride themselves on their
qualities as foot-soldiers. Sir Alexander Burnes re-
marks, that their whole armed force, if brought into
the field, would be little better than an undisciplined
rabble. In 1834 the last of the four Ameers died, and,
as a natural consequence of the state of the succession,
the conflicting factions of the young princes brought
on a civil war. The country fcas since been more or
less in a disturbed state, and at present the leading
Ameer is embroiled with the British government in
India on points connected with the navigation of the
Indus. It is scarcely possible that the result of the
contest should be otherwise than advantageous to the
people of Scinde, and if once the Ameers learn to
know the real objects of government, the Scindians
may become a happier people, and Scinde a wealthy
and commercial kingdom. Scinde has fallen into a
worse state since it was described by Mr. Burnes
fifteen years ago, in consequence of the anarchy which
ensued on the death of trie last of the four Ameers.
Their treasure and their field-sports are still the chief
objects of those who have succeeded them. Mrs. Pos-
tans, whose work on 'Western India' is well known,
in an account of a steam-trip down the Indus in 1842,*
speaking of the fine forests of the Ameers enclosed
with walls for the preservation of game, says that every
head of game was calculated to cost the Ameers
50/., reckoning only the expenses of their sporting
establishments. In the period which had elapsed
since Mr. Burnes 's visit, the lords of Scinde appear
neither to have forgotten anything nor to have learnt
anything.

The Indus, which is navigable from Lahore to the
sea, a distance of a thousand miles, hitherto almost a
stranger to commercial enterprise, is now enlivened
by steam-boats. This river does not possess the ad-
vantages of the Ganges, and large ships cannot enter
any of its numerous mouths, but flat-Dottomed boats
and steam-boats constructed for the purpose may navi-
gate its waters in safety. The British government has
already formed treaties with the several states on the
banks of the river, with a view of promoting and pro-
tecting trade. Steam-boats established by the govern-
ment and by private traders have already opened a
commercial intercourse by this route with the north-
western provinces of Ilindbstan. It is the intention of
the government so to improve the roads between the
Sutlej and the Jumna and the Ganges, as to enable the
British merchant who enters the Sutlej from the Indus
to convey his goods from the former river, and to
descend the Jumna and Ganges, instead of ascending
them against the stream. The benefits of this com-
mercial activity will soon be felt in Scinde, which de-
rives, like Egypt from its Nile, a fertility of soil which
is periodically renewed by the overflowings of the In-
dus, and the benefits of which might be greatly ex-
tended by canals of irrigation. At present districts
adapted tor cultivation are in pasture, but near the
river the famines which arise from droughts are un-
known. Vegetation is exuberant, and the abundance
of food attracts people from the neighbouring states
which enjoy a less happy position ; and yet lands,
which might supply the whole of Western India with
their surplus produce, are overrun with jungle, and
devoted to beasts of the chase.

* ' Asiatic Journal ' No. 155.

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THE HORSE-FARMS OR HERDS OF
SOUTHERN RUSSIA.

The Russian cavalry, and a large proportion of all the
horses required in the eastern countries of Europe,
are mainly supplied from vast herds of horses which
wander, in a semi-wild state, over the " steppes' 1 or
plains in the southern part of Asiatic Russia. These
plains are of a most extraordinary character. They
extend entirely across the empire, from the confines
of Hungary to those of China. Throughout this dis-
tance of several thousand miles, scarcely a hill, or even
a tree, is to he seen: the whole is one monotonous
level, presenting less diversity of appearance, perhaps,
than any other portion of the earth s surface. A tra-
veller may proceed in a straight line for hundreds of
miles without encountering a tree, or even a busk
The situation is so exposed that there is shelter neither
from the heat of summer nor the cold of winter. Du-
ring a few favoured months, such as April, May, Sep-
tember, and October, the ground is covered with coarse
grass; but during five winter months the cold is to in-
tense that even tne arctic regions can scarcely exceed
it in rigour ; while during two or three summer
months the parching dryness is such as Africa only
can excel. In such a climate, when? agriculture could
be pursued only under great disadvantages, and where
cities and towns can hardly be said to exist, the prin-
cipal occupation of the inhabitants is to rear horses,
oxen, and sheep, all of which largely supply the
European markets.

The rearing of horses is the most remarkable of
these three occupations, in respect to the differences
which characterise Asia from Europe. A herd of
horses, only a little removed from a state of wildness,
is possessed generally by a Russian noble, who intrusts
the entire care of it to a herdsman, called a tabuntshik,
the herd itself beinp called a taboott, or tabun. The
great Russian families of Woronzoff, Orloff, Potocki,
Kasumoffsky, &c., all possess vast tracts of land in the
44 steppes ;" and the rearing of herds of horses on these
steppes forms a notable part of the revenue of the
proprietors, since horses can range over a large ex-
panse of ground, and obtain support from land too
poor to afford pasturage to cattle or sheep.

When a taboon is about to be formed, a few stallions
and mares are placed on the estate, under the care of
a tabuntshik ; and these are kept together year after
year till the number of horses amounts to nearly a
thousand, beyond which number it is not usual to in-
crease the size of a taboon, other taboons being in such
case detached from it. It is not till a taboon is full
that the proprietor begins to become a seller, by sell-
ing them at large horse-fairs held in different parts of
the steppes, or to the government contractors, who go
round from one taboon to another to select horses for
the cavalry and the government service generally.

The terms on which the tabuntshik is engaged by
the owner, as well as the nature of the country and cli-
mate, conspire to render the life of one of these herds-
men, or horschcrds, if we may coin such a term, most
wild and precarious. He is answerable for every
horse that may *>e lost or stolen ; and, as both wolves
and horse-thieves are plentiful in the steppes, his
wage3 are generally wofully lessened by the value
which he has to remit for the lost or stolen horses.
The thousand horses, so far from being docile and well
secured, are half wild, and have abundant opportuni-
ties for escaping from the herd ; and the keeper lias
therefore to guard against the wildness of the horses
.themselves as much as against wolves and thieves.
He almost lives in his saddle, by night as well as by
day ; and indeed more by night than by day, for the
horses arc most apt to stray, as well as to be attacked

by wolves or seized by thievos, in the night-time. He
must have a constitution capable of enduring the
greatest privations and the extremes of weather ; for
whether in the fierce cold of winter or the equally
fierce heat of summer, he must be alike watchful over
his herd. A roof in winter and a shady spot in sum-
mer are alike uncertain to him ; and he must hold
himself in readiness to gallop off at a minute's notice
after a stray horse.

The dress of these men is a multum in parvo, an as
semblage within a small space of as many conveni-
ences as circumstances will allow them to provide.
The principal garments are composed of leather, which
are bound around his middle by a leather girdle. The
head-covering is a high, cylindrical Tartar cap, made
of black lambskin ; and tne outer garment is a large
brown woollen cloak, called a sreeta y with a hood to
cover the head. This hood is allowed to hang behind
in fine weather, and then often serves both as pocket
and larder. Among the implements carried by the
tabuntshik are a whip, a sling, and a wolf-club. The
whip, called the harabuck, has a short, thick handle,
and a thong fifteen or eighteen feet in length : this he
has almost constantly in his hand, it being the chief
instrument by which he keeps his disorderly herd in
order. The sling is something like the lasso of the
South American hunters, and is used to catch the
horses when roaming about the plains ; the keeper
being able, by an unerring; aim, to throw the lasso
round the horse's neck without hurting him. The
wolf-club, as its name imports, is used to repel all of
the enemies against whom the tabuntshik has to con-
tend : it is a thick club, three or four feet long, armed
with a thick iron knob at one end, and kept always
ready near the pommel of the saddle. When hurled at
a wolf with the dexterity which these men have
learned to use, it seldom fails to give a fatal blow to
the animal.

As for provisions, the keeper is but slenderly pro-
vided. He carries a cask of water, for the steppes
are but scantily supplied with that invaluable commo-
dity. He also carries a bag of bread and a bottle of
brandy, and sundry trifles which fill up the measure
of his removable baggage.

The kind of life which is led by the horses intrusted
to the care of these men may now be briefly sketched.
From about April to October, when the steppes are
coated with grass, the horses arc constantly grazing,
and make amends for the privations of the past winter.
During the other half of the year they remain under
shelter at ni^ht, and roam about during the day to ga-
ther what little herbage they can And beneath the
snow. An eye-witness has observed : — " When we say
the horses remain under shelter, it must not be sup-
posed that the shelter in question resembles in any way
an English stable. The snelter alluded to consists of a
space of ground enclosed by an earthen mound, with
now and then something like a roof towards the north,
to keep off the cold wind. There the poor creatures
must defend themselves as well as they can against the
merciless Boreas, who comes to them unchecked in ftis
course all the way from the pole. To a stranger it is
quite harrowing to see the noble animals, in severe
weather, in one of these unprotected enclosures. The
stallions and the stronger beasts take possession of the
shed ; the timid and feeble stand in groups about the
wall, and creep closely together, in order mutually to
impart a little warmth to each other." And not only
do the horses suffer thus from cold ; but, through the
improvidence of the Russian agriculturists, although
there is abundant grass for hay grown in the summer,
yet very little care is taken to lay by a store of fodder
for the horses in winter; and thus it often happens'
that the poor animals are so reduced as to eat away

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each other's manes and tails, for lack of anything else
in the form of food.

When winter is over, the horses appear as a troop
of sickly skeletons, worn down almost to death by cold
and hunger : but they speedily recover when luxuri-
ating in the grass, which appears about April or May ;
and for a couple of months they are full of life and

flee. The heats of summer are, however, nearly as
ad for them as the cold of winter ; not in relation
strictly to the heat itself, but to the dreadful drought
which accompanies it. The steppes are said to become
so thoroughly dried and even baked in July and
August, that scarcely a vestige of herbage remains,
and all the streams are more or less dried up. The
horses can find scarcely anything either to eat or to
drink, and they endeavour to shield themselves from
the fierce heat of the sun by grouping or huddling
themselves together, each one under the partial sha-
dow of another.

*A pleasant autumn succeeds a scorching summer,
and the horses, provided with abundance of grass and
of water, and exposed to a mild temperature, recover
from the debilitating effects of the summer, and in
some degree prepare themselves for the horrors of the
forthcoming winter.

There are often fierce and remarkable contests
between the horses and the wolves which infest the
" steppes." The wolves generally approach singly
towards the herd, and springing suddenly on a mare
who may be at the outskirts, kill her, and then carry
off her foal. But as there are few thickets or bushes
for concealment, the attacks of the wolf are not so
often successful as they would be in a different kind of
country. Sometimes a party of wolves attack the
taboon or herd at night, and a scene ensues which
has been thus described by a writer in the * Asiatic
Journal : ' — " An admirable spirit of coalition then
displays itself among the horses. On the first alarm,
Stallions and mares come charging up to the threatened
point, and attack the wolves with an impetuosity that
often puts the prowlers to instant flight. Soon, how-
ever, if they feel themselves sufficiently numerous,
they return, and hover about the taboon, till some poor
foal straggles a few yards from the main body, when it
is seized by the enemy, while the mother, springing to
its rescue, is nearly certain to share its fate. Then it
is that the battle begins in real earnest. The mares
form a circle, within which the foals take shelter. We
have seen pictures in which the horses are represented
in a circle, presenting their hind hoofs to the wolves,
who thus appear to have the free choice of fight or to
let it alone. Such pictures are the mere result of
imagination, and bear very little resemblance to
reality; for the wolf has, in general, to pay much
more dearly for his partiality to horse- flesh. The
horses, when they attack wolves, do not turn their tails
towards them, but charge upon them in a solid phalanx,
tearing them with their teeth, and trampling on them
with their feet. The stallions do not fall into the
phalanx, but gallop about with streaming tails and
erected manes, and seem to act at once as generals,
trumpeters, and standard-bearers. Where they see a
wolf, they rush upon him with reckless fury, mouth to
mouth ; or, if they use their feet as weapons of offence,
it is always with the front, and not with the hinder
hoof, that the attack is made. With one blow the
stallion often kills his enemy, or stuns him ; if so, he
snatches the body up with his teeth, and flings it to
the mares, who trample upon it till it becomes hard to
say what kind of animal the skin belonged to."

The tabuntshiks take care to keep their respective
taboons or herds at a distance from one another ; for
if they meet, a desperate encounter generally ensues,
all the horses of one herd making common cause

against the strangers. The stallions are always the
combatants, the mares and foals keeping aloof.

It may well be supposed that the control over fiv**
hundred or a thousand such horses as these must be a
most laborious occupation, and we may well wonder
that any men can be found to undertake such a
task ; for they are freemen, and not slaves, who act as
tabuntshiks. The truth seems to be that they are
desperate, reckless men, whose habits unfit them for a
more quiet and moderate kind of life. They receive a
rate of wages decidedly high compared with the
Russian average : it amounts to five or six rubles per
year per horse, equal to about 275/. a year English.
But out of these wages the tabuntshik has to defray all
losses arising from robbery, attacks by wolves, strayed
horses, and the hire of three or four assistants. Still
his net earnings are high, and these he spends mainly
at the brandy-houses which are to be found scattered
on the plain. Two or three years of this life of ex
citement incapacitates a man for any quieter employ
ment, and ten or fifteen years of it wear him out.

These reckless men have more of what may, by
abuse, be called liberty, than most other men in
Russia. They are servants, yet their services are of
such a peculiar kind, that a Russian noble would
hesitate long before he discharged a tabuntshik from
the care of a taboon : the man has become acquainted
with the horses, and the horses with him ; he knows
the value of each, and can offer sound advice as to
which may best be kept and which sold : he knows
where are the best pasture-grounds ; and the horses,
after being accustomed to him, yield a very unwilling
obedience to another. Thus the servant possesses, in
the eyes of his master, a value which causes his vicious
qualities to be winked at.

When a horse-fair is held in any of the towns, the
horses are driven into the market in the same free
condition in which they roam over the plains; for if
tied together, they would become restless and un-
governable. When driven through towns and villages,
the animals always seem somewhat frightened, from
the entire newness of the scene ; but as in such case
they all keep closely together, they give the keeper
less, instead of more trouble. In the market-place, the
owner of the horses is seated near an enclosure, into
which the animals are driven by the tabuntshik. A
scene of bargaining then ensues, the animals re-
maining in the enclosure until the bargain is com-
pleted. When the price is agreed upon and paid, and
a fee given to the tabuntshik, he dexterously tnrows his
sling round the neck of the selected horse, and thus
secures him. If the purchaser refuses to fee this
desperado, he is apt afterwards to find that the horse
has been purposely injured by the man in the act of
catching him.

When the government purveyors or contractors are
in search of cavalry horses they do not wait for the
fair-time, but go from one taboon to another, selecting
such horses as may be fit for the service, and paying
for them a price previously agreed upon with the
proprietor.

Chine* Tools and Chinese Mechanics. — Though their iron-work
is not good, yet their tools, such as chisels, planes, axes, &